BOLINGBROKE 



A HISTORICAL STUDY 



YOLTAIEE IN ENGLAIS^D 



BOLI]SraBEOKE 



A HISTOKICAL STUDY 



AND 



YOLTAIRE m ENGLAND 



BY 

JOHN CHURTON COLLINS 



NEW YORK 
HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE 

1886 






By Ttanrfw 

MAR 35 W7 



PEEFACE. 



The Essays comprised in this volume were orig- 
inally contributed to the Quarterly Bevievj and to 
the Cornhill Magazine^ and the Author has to thank 
Mr. Murray for permission to reprint the papers on 
Bolingbroke, and Messrs. Smith and Elder for per- 
mission to reprint the papers on Yoltaire in Eng- 
land. Both series of Essays have been carefully 
revised ; to both series, but particularly to the sec- 
ond, considerable additions have been made. They 
have been collected in a volume uot because the 
Author attaches undue importance to them, but be- 
cause he ventures to think that they throw light on 
two singularly interesting episodes in the political 
and literary history of the eighteenth century, and 
because he is willing to believe that, as they are the 
result of more research than will perhaps appear 
upon the surface, they may be of some use to fut- 
ure biographers of Bolingbroke and Yoltaire. 



CONTENTS, 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF LOKD BOLINGBEOKE. 

Introduction 3, 4 

The Biographers 4, 5 

Characteristics of Bolingbroke 6-13 

His Influence on English Literature 14 

On the Course of Public Thought both in England and Abroad. 14, 15 

Ancestry and Early Education 15-21 

His Youth : Licentiousness 22, 23 

Continental Travels 23-25 

Marriage 26 

Entrance into Public Life 27 

State of Parties on the Accession of Queen Anne 27-30 

Character of Robert Harley 30-82 

St, John's Political Attitude 82 

State of Public Affairs, Prospect and Retrospect 83-35 

Character of Godolphin : his Policy 35, 36 

St. John rapidly rises into Distinction : his Appointment to 

the Secretaryship of War 37-39 

The "Whigs come into Power 39 

Duplicity of Harley, shared in by St. John 39, 40 

Fall of Harley 41 

Retirement of St. John. _. . . , 41, 42 

Overthrow of the Godolphin Administration : Causes of same : 

its Splendid Services 42-46 

Administration of Harley and St. John 45-47 

Difficulties of Barley's Position 47-49 

Party Writers : Swift and his Services 50, 51 

" Marlborough 52 

Dissensions among the Tory Party 52, 53 



viii CONTENTS. 

PAGR 

Harley rising into Uudesorved Popularity through Guiscard's 

Unsuccessful Attempt on his Life 53-56 

Secret Negotiations with France 56, 57 

Resentment of the "Whig Party : Crisis in Parliament 58, 59 

St. John Victorious 59 

Tactics of the Tories , 59-61 

Preliminaries of the Treaty of Utrecht : St. John's Negotiation 

with France 61, 62 

Ilis Promotion to the Peerage 62, 63 

Ilis Diplomatic Mission to Paris 63, 64 

Treaty of Utrecht Concluded 65, 66 

Reflections on the Treaty, and on Bolingbroke's Conduct 66-68 

Dissensions between Bolingbroke and Oxford. 68-70 

Bolingbroke Determined to bring Matters to a Crisis 71-73 

Oxford is Removed 73 

Bolingbroke Prime-minister : his Intrigues with the Jacobites. 73, 74 

The Earl of Shrewsbury Secedes 75 

The Queen Dies, and the Tory Party Collapses 75, 76 



BOLINGBROKE IN EXILE. 



Importance of this Period , 79, 80 

Retrospect at the Close of Bolingbroke's Political Career 81 

Bolingbroke's Schemes 82, 83 

His Advances not Encouraged by the Elector 84 

Arrival of the King in England 84 

The Whigs come into Power, their Proceedings against the 

late Government 84-86 

Bolingbroke's Attempt at Self-justification Unsuccessful 86 

Threatening Prospects 86, 87 

Flight of Bolingbroke 87, 88 

Imprudeftce of this St«p 88-90 

His Arrival in Paris : Interview with Berwick and Stair 00 

Impeached by Walpole : Considerations thereon 90-92 

Declared an Outlaw 93 

The Pretender, his Character: Reasons which guided Boling- 
broke in Espousing his Cause 93-97 



CONTENTS. ix 

PAGH 

Bolingbroke Organizes the Jacobite Movement in Paris : Dis- 
appointments and Trials 97, 98 

Circumstances Favorable to the Cause 99, 100 

Negotiations of Bolingbroke 100-102 

Inauspicious Events : Death of Louis XIV., Flight of Ormond 102-104 
Declining Prospects of the Jacobite Cause: its Collapse. . . 104, 105 
Bolingbroke's Services to the Pretender: is Dismissed. . . . 105-108 

News Arrives in London 108 

Bolingbroke Attempts to come to Terms with the English 

Government 108, 109 

His Retirement and Private Studies 109-112 

Connection with the Marquise de Yillette and Subsequent 

Marriage 113, 114 

Literary Pursuits 114-1 1 6 

Friendship with Voltaire 1 16-120 

His Desire to Return to England repeatedly Thwarted : at 

last Acceded to 121 

His Interview with Walpole and Carteret 121-124 

His Ofifer of Intercession at the French Court Declined by 

Walpole 124, 125 

Walpole Averse to Bolingbroke's Restoration : at last Forced 

to Consent to it by the King 126, 127 

Bolingbroke's Double Life 127, 128 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 

Bolingbroke as an Opponent of the Ministry : his Position 

and Influence in the Political Contest 131, 132 

State of Parties : the Leaders of the Opposition 132-137 

Organization of the Opposition : Publication of the Crafts- 
man 137, 138 

Bolingbroke one of its Chief Contributors 138 

His Interview with the King 139, 140 

Death of the King 141 

Critical Aspect of Affairs 141 

Walpole Restored to Power 142 

Factions in Parliament, Venality of Office-holders 142-144 

A2 



X CONTENTS. 

Tactics of the Opposition 144-14'? 

Nearly Successful 147 

The Excise Bill 147-149 

Review of Bolingbroke's Contributions to the Craftsman 

from 1727 until 1734 150 

His "Remarks on the History of England " 351-153 

His "Dissertation upon Parties " 153-155 

Bolingbroke as a Writer on Philosophical and Metaphysical 

Subjects : his Life at Dawley 155, 156 

His Friends 157, 158 

Bolingbroke's Friendship with Pope 158 

His Influence on Pope's Mind and Studies 159-163 

Departure from England : Reasons for same 163-165 

His Residence in France : Inquiries 165 

His " Letters on the Study of History " 166, 167 

His " Letter on the Spirit of Patriotism " 168 

Character of the Prince of Wales 169-171 

Bolingbroke Attempts to Ingratiate himself with the Prince 171, 172 

The " Patriot King:" Considerations thereon 172-175 

Walpole's Influence Declines : his Resignation 175, 176 

Bolingbroke Arrives too Late from France : his Last Chance 

Lost 176 

Retrospect of Bolingbroke's Literary Career 176, 177 

His Unworthy Conduct towards Pope 177-180 

Last Days of Bolingbroke 180 

Afflictions of Age 181 

Death of Lady Bolingbroke 181 

Death of Bolingbroke 181 

Publication of his Philosophical Works 181 

Review of his Philosophical Works 181 

Summary of his Philosophy 185-187 

Epilogue 187 



VOLTAIRE IN ENGLAND. 

SECTION I. 

Voltaire's Stay in England : an Unwritten Chapter in his 

Biography 191, 192 



CONTENTS. 



XI 



Date of his Arrival 193, 194 

First Impressions . 195, 196 

The Friends he makes in England : Bubb Dodington, Sir 

Everard Falkener 197, 198 

Interview with Pope 200-202 

Reverses of Fortune : Family Afflictions 202, 203 

At Eastbury : meets Young 205, 206 

His Views on Men and Manners 206-208 

Lady Hervey : Voltaire's English Verses 209 

His Double-dealing in Politics 210-212 

His Effusiveness as a Critic 212 

Studies of English Life 213-216 

Visit to France 216 

SECTION II. 

Scrap-book of Voltaire : a Clew to his Familiarity with Eng- 
lish Life 216, 217 

His Study of Newton's Works, of Locke's, of Bacon's, and 

of Berkeley's 217-219 

Sympathy with the Free-thought Movement as Inaugurated 

by Collins and Woolston 220 

His Literary Productions in the English Language 221-224 

Preparations for the Publication of the " Heuriade" 224-226 

Issue of the Work '. 226 

Its Immense Success 227, 228 

Piratical Publishers '. 228, 229 

Domestic Troubles 230 

Alterations of the Manuscript 231 

Comments of the Press 231, 232 

L^ntoward Incident: Voltaire's Clever Escape 233 

British National Self-complacency strikingly Illustrated, . . 233, 234 

SECTION III. 

Voltaire's Different Literary Undertakings from Aprils 

1728, until March, 1729 234-236 

His Growing Famihavity with English Literature 236, 237 

-His ludebtcdncss to English Men of Letters 237-240 



xii CONTENTS. 

Retrospect at the Close of his Stay ia England 240, 241 

His Respect for the English 242 

Calumnious Statements Circulated as to the Cause of his 

Departure from England 243, 244 

Last Interview with Pope 244 

Voltaire's Return to France 245 



i 



POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 



SUMMARY. 



Introduction, p. 3, 4 — The Biographers, p. 4-6 — Characteristics of 
Bolingbroke, p. 6-14 — His influence on English literature, p. 14 — On 
the course of public thought both in England and abroad, p. 15 — An- 
cestry and early education, p. 16-22 — His youth : licentiousness, p, 22, 
23 — Continental Travels, p. 23, 24— Marriage, p. 26 — Entrance into 
public life, p. 27 — State of Parties on the accession of Queen Anne, 
p. 27-29 — Harley, the Speaker of the House of Commons : his char- 
acter, p. 30-32— St. John's political attitude, p. 32, 33— State of public 
affairs, prospect and retrospect, p. 33-35 — Character of Godolphin: 
his policy, p. 35-37 — St. John rapidly rises into distinction: kis ap- 
pointment to the Secretaryship of War, p. 38, 39 — The Whigs come 
into power, p. 39 — Duplicity of Harley, shared in by St. John, p. 40 — 
Downfall of Harley, p. 41— Retirement of St. John, p. 41,42— Over- 
throw of the Godolphin Administration : causes of same, p. 43-46 — 
Its splendid services, p. 42, 43 — Administration of Harley and St. John, 
p. 46, 47 — Difficulties of Harley's position, p. 47-49 — Party writers : 
Swift's services, p. 50, 51 — Marlborough, p. 51, 52 — Dissensions among 
the Tory party, p. 52, 53 — Harley rising into undeserved popularity 
through Guiscard's unsuccessful attempt on his life, p. 53-56— Se- 
cret negotiations carried on with France, p. 56-58 — Resentment of 
the Whig party : climax in Parliament, p. 58, 59 — St. John victo- 
rious, p. 59 — Tactics of the Tories, p. 59-62 — Preliminaries of the 
Treaty of Utrecht: activity of St. John in preparing same: his pro- 
motion to the peerage, p. 62, 63 — His diplomatic mission to Paris, 
p. 63, 64 — Treaty of Utrecht concluded : Treaty discussed, p. 65-67 — 
Reflection on the treaty, and on Bolingbroke's conduct, p. 68 — Dis- 
sensions between Bolingbroke and Oxford, p. 68-71 — Bolingbroke 
determined to bring matters to a crisis, p. 71-73 — Oxford is removed, 
p. 73— Bolingbroke Prime-minister : Jacobite intrigues, p. 74— The 
Earl of Shrewsbury secedes, p. 75 — The Queen dies, and the Tory 
party collapses, p. 75, 76. 







THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE * 

We have little respect for the public conduct of Boling- 
broke ; we have no liking for his personal character ; we 
regard his political writings with suspicion, and his meta- 
physical writings with contempt ; but we cannot transcribe 
these title-pages without strong feelings of regret. It was, 
as he once bitterly observed, his lot during life to suffer 
more at the hands of his friends than at the hands of his 
enemies ; and what was his lot in life, has been by a rare 
refinement of misfortune his lot ever since. The edition 
of his works by Mallet is, if we except the type and paper, 
one of the worst editions of an English author that ever 
issued from the press. It is frequently disfigured by mis- 
prints ; it swarms with errors in punctuation ; its text, as 
a very cursory collation with the original manuscripts will 
suffice to show, is not always to be depended on. It was 
hurried into the world with indecent haste, without one 
word of preface, without any attempt at arrangement, with 

* " The Works of the late Riglit Honorable Henry St. John Lord 
Viscount Bolingbroke," published by David Mallet. 

" Memoirs of Lord Bolingbroke," by George Wingrove Cooke. 

" The Life of Henry St. John Viscount Bolingbroke," by Thomas 
Macknitrht. 



4 ESSAYS. 

scarcely a lino of annotation. The result is that nine- 
tenths of the political papers must be as unintelligible to 
a reader who is not minutely acquainted with the parlia- 
mentary controversies which raged round Walpole, as the 
"Letters of Junius" would be to a reader who was simi- 
larly ignorant of the career of Wilkes, or of the adminis- 
tration of Grafton. And what applies to these papers will 
apply, with scarcely less propriety, to the more important 
works on which Bolingbroke's literary fame must rest — 
to the "Letter to Wyndhara," to the "Dissertation on 
Parties," to the " Remarks on the History of England." 
It would, in truth, be difficult to name a writer of equal 
merit, who is more dependent on a judicious editor for 
those little services which so often turn the scale between 
popular recognition and oblivion. But a hundred and 
twenty years have rolled away without this useful func- 
tionary making his appearance, and the works of one of 
the greatest masters of our tongue are confined almost ex- 
clusively to the perusal of readers who can dispense with 
illustrative assistance. 

In his biographers and apologists he has been equally 
unlucky. The "Memoirs of his Ministerial Life," which 
appeared in 1752, the "Life and History," which appeared 
in 1*754, the "Biography," by Goldsmith, the "Memoires 
Secretes," the " Essai Historique," by Grimoard, have fol- 
lowed one another in rapid succession into oblivion, and 
into an oblivion which, we are bound to add, they justly 
merited. Nor can we speak very favorably of the more 
elaborate biographies at the head of this article. The 
work of Mr. Wingrove Cooke, though skilfully executed, 
is, like his " History of Parties," too superficial and too 
inaccurate to be ever likely to attain a permanent place in 
literature! Indeed, the " Life " by Mr. Macknight has al- 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 5 

ready superseded it. Mr. Mackniglit's volume is fairly en- 
titled to tbe praise of diligence and im partial it3\ He lias 
carefully consulted all obvious sources of information ; be 
bas availed bimself to tbe full of tbe work of bis prede- 
cessor; he bas studied witb care tbe bulky correspondence 
in wbicb El^ingbroke loved to pour bimself out, and be 
bas produced in consequence a work of some pretension. 
But bis style is slipsbod, and bis grasp is feeble. Of pro- 
portion and perspective in tbe disposition of bis material 
be has no idea. He is continually expanding where he 
ought to retrench ; he is continually retrenching where be 
ought to expand. He gives us, for example, a long and 
tedious dissertation on the Treaty of Utrecht, but he de- 
spatches in a few pages one of the most curiously interest- 
ing periods in bis hero's career — the period between 1733 
and 1736. He enters at length into all tbe questions 
which embroiled the Opposition with Walpole; but of 
Bolingbroke's influence on literature and philosophy he 
says scarcely one word, of his character, nothing. His 
acquaintance, moreover, with tbe literary and political his- 
tory of tbe eighteenth century is not sufficiently extensive 
to prevent him from habitually blundering when the course 
of his narrative obliges him to touch on such topics, and 
such topics are, unfortunately, of tbe essence of his task. 
In a word, Mr. Macknight bas produced a work which is 
beyond question the best biography of Bolingbroke, but 
he has not produced a work which students can consult 
with satisfaction, or to which tbe general reader will be 
likely to turn for amusement. He is neither a Coxe nor 
a Soutbey. Of M. Remusat's Essay we shall content our- 
selves with saying that it is a sober and patient study, em- 
inently suggestive, luminous and animated. As a biogra- 
phy it is necessarily defective ; as a critique it is admirable. 



6 ESSAYS. 

Bolingbroke belongs to a class of men whose peculiari- 
ties both of intellect and temper are sufficiently unmistak- 
able. The course of his public life, though often tortuous 
and perplexing, presents on the whole few ambiguities. 
The details of his private life may still be collected with 
singular fulness from innumerable sources.^ For nearly 
half a century he lived among shrewd and observant men 
of the world, and of these some of the shrewdest and most 
observant have recorded their impressions of him. His 
speeches have perished, but his writings and his corre- 
spondence remain ; and both his writings and his corre- 
spondence are eminently characteristic. 

Seldom has it been the lot even of the great leaders of 
mankind to unite in the same dazzling combination such 
an array of eminent qualities as met in this unhappy states- 
man. His intellect was of the highest and rarest order — 
keen, clear, logical, comprehensive, rapidly assimilative, in- 
exhaustibly fertile. His memory was so prodigious that 
he complained, like Themistoclcs, of its indiscriminating 
tenacity ; but the treasures of Bolingbroke's memory were 
at the ready call of a swift and lively intelligence. " His 
penetration," says Chesterfield, " resembled intuition." His 
imagination was warm and vivid, his judgment clear, his 
energy almost superhuman. While a mere youth he was 
distinguished alike by audacity and tact, by rare skill in 
debate, by rare talents for the practical duties of states- 
manship. His powers of application were such as are not 
often found conjoined with parts so quick and with a tem- 
perament so naturally mercurial. " He would plod " — we 
are quoting Swift — " whole days and nights like the low- 
est clerk in an office ;" and even in his latter years the un- 
remitting intensity of his studies excited the wonder of 
younger students. His mind had early been enlarged by 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 7 

foreign travel and by an unusually wide experience. In 
the world of books and in the world of men he was equal- 
ly interested, and he was equally at home. " He joined," 
writes Chesterfield, " all the politeness, the manners and 
the graces of a courtier to the solidity of a statesman and 
to the learning of a pedant." The most accomplished of 
his acquaintances have observed that there was scarcely 
any branch of human knowledge which had escaped his 
curious and discursive glance. His face and figure were 
such as sculptors love to dwell upon ; and such as more 
than one of his contemporaries have paused to describe. 
His person was tall and commanding; his features were 
of classical beauty, but eager, mobile, animated ; his fore- 
head was high and intellectual, his lips indicated eloquence, 
bis eyes were full of fire. Grace and dignity blended them- 
selves in his deportment. The witchery of his manners 
has been acknowledged by the most malignant of his de- 
tractors, and his exquisite urbanity passed into a proverb. 
" To make St. John more polite," was the phrase employed 
by a poet of those times as a synonym for superfluous 
labor. "Lord Bolingbroke," says Aaron Hill, "was the 
finest gentleman I ever saw." From the multitude, in- 
deed, he stood coldly and haughtily aloof, but his sym- 
pathy with men of genius and learning was quick, catholic, 
and generous. He rescued Fenton from the drudgery of 
a private school, and his patronage was extended not only 
to those poets and wits who have given him a place beside 
Maecenas and Alphonso da Este, but to scholarship and to 
science. One of the most distinguished mathematicians 
of that century has recorded his gratitude to him, and even 
George Whitefield relates with pride how he once num- 
bered Bolingbroke among the most attentive and eulogistic 
of his listeners. Long before his abilities had fully ma- 



8 ESSAYS. 

tared themselves, the gates of St. Stephen's were closed 
against him ; but not before an audience familiar with the 
eloquence of Halifax and Somcrs had pronounced him to 
be the first orator of his age. " I would rather," said Pitt, 
" have a speech of Bolingbroke's than any of the lost treas- 
ures of antiquity." The charm of his conversation has 
been described by men whose judgment is without appeal, 
by Pope and Voltaire, by Swift, Orrery, and Chesterfield. 

His character was, however, so unhappily constituted that 
these superb powers were seldom or never in harmonious 
CO - operation. The virtues which bahmce and control, 
sobriety, moderation, consistency, had no part in his com- 
position. His impetuosity and intemperance amounted to 
disease. To the end of his long life he was the slave not 
merely of every passion, but of every impulse; and what 
the capricious tyranny of emotion dictated had for the 
moment the power of completely transforming him. He 
exhibited by turns the traits peculiar to the most exalted 
and to the most debased of our species. His virtues and 
his vices, his reason and his passions, did not as in ordinary 
men blend themselves in a gradation of tints, but remained 
isolated in sudden and glaring contrast. His transitions 
were from extreme to extreme. He was sometimes all 
vice, he was sometimes all elevation. When his fine intel- 
lect was unclouded, his shrewdness and sagacity were a 
match for De Torcy; his dexterity and adroitness more 
than a match for Marlborough and Godolphin. When his 
intellect took the ply from his passions, there was little to 
distinguish him from the most hot-headed and hare-brained 
of his own tools. In his sublimer moments he out-Catoed 
Cato, in his less exalted moods he sank below Sandys and 
Dodington. When in retirement, he shut himself up with 
the "Tusculans" and the Enchiridion, he lived and talked 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 9 

as became a disciple of the Porch. When he reappeared 
among men, his debaucheries were the scandal Of the two 
most profligate capitals in Europe. His actions were some- 
times those of a high-minded and chivalrous gentleman,- 
capable of making great sacrifices, and distinguished by a 
spirit of romantic generosity. A change of mood would 
suffice to transform him into the most callous, the most 
selfish, the most cynical of misanthropes. He was never, 
we believe, a deliberate hypocrite, but his emotions were 
so transient, his conduct so capricious, that he might have 
passed for Tartuffe himself. The fascination of his man- 
ners and the brilliancy of his parts naturally surrounded 
him with many friends. Friendship was, he said, indis-4 
pensable to his being ; it was the noblest of human in- 
stincts ; it was sacred ; it should be inviolable ; it was in 
its purity the prerogative only of great and good men. 
His letters to Prior, to Swift, to Alari, and to Pope, abound 
in the most extravagant professions of attachment. His 
letters to Lord Hardwicke are sometimes almost fulsome. 
But what was the sequel ? He quarrelled with Alari for 
presuming to advise him. He dropped Swift when the 
letters of Swift ceased to entertain him. He dropped 
Hardwicke from mere caprice. His perfidy to Pope is, 
we believe, literally without example in social treachery. 
He bore the most excruciating of human maladies with a 
placid fortitude which would have done honor to Stylitcs ; 
but the slightest error on the part of his cook would send 
him into such paroxysms of rage that his friends were 
glad to be out of his house. His whole soul was torment- 
ed by an insatiable thirst for literary and political distinc- 
tion ; it would, we believe, be impossible to find in liis 
voluminous correspondence half a dozen letters in which 
he does not express contempt both for the world and for 

1* 



10 ESSAYS. 

the world's regard. His opinions were as wayward and as 
wliirasical as his actions. He delighted to write of him- 
self as the votary of a mild and tolerant philosophy which 
had taught him the vanity of aaibition, and could be nour- 
ished only in that retirement which, thanks to his enemies, 
he was enabled to enjoy. Before the ink was dry he was 
ransacking our language for scurrilous epithets against 
those who had excluded him from public life. Resigna- 
tion was, he said, the virtue on which he especially prided 
himself. His life was notoriously one long and fierce re- 
bellion. He professed the greatest respect for prescription, 
and is one of the most revolutionary of writers; for the 
Church, and would have betrayed it; for Christianity, and 
was in the van of its most ferocious assailants. He deliv- 
ered himself sometimes in rhodomontade redolent of the 
ethics of Seneca and of the Utopias of Plato and Xenophon, 
and sometimes in rhodomontade breathing the spirit of the 
Prince and of the Fable of the Bees. As the subject of 
Anne, he went as far as Filmer in his estimate of the royal 
prerogative ; as the subject of George, he went beyond 
Paley in depreciating it. As the minister of Anne, he was 
the originator of the Stamp Act ; as the subject of George, 
he was the loudest and most vehement of those demagogues 
who clamored for the absolute freedom of the press. In 
power he was the author of the Schism Act ; out of power 
he taunted Walpole with deserting the Dissenters. The 
age he lived in he pronounced to be the Nadir of moral 
and political corruption ; he proposed to purify it by a 
scheme which postulates the perfection of those whose 
vices are to be cured by it. 

The truth is that, with quick sensibilities he had no 
depth of feeling, with much insight no convictions. What 
would in well-regulated minds have developed into princi- 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 11 

pie, remained in him mere sentiment ; and Lis sentiments 
•were like the whims of a libertine, ardent, fanciful, and 
transitory. His head was hot, but his heart was cold. 

In the latter part of his career he set himself up as the 
castigator of political immorality, and as the loftiest and 
most disinterested of patriots. His own public life had 
been such that each part of it seems elaborately designed 
to set off and heighten the turpitude of some other part. 
The shameless charlatanism of his career at the head of 
the extreme Tories might have passed perhaps for honest 
zeal — intemperate, indeed, but pure — had he not at the 
head of the extreme Whigs found it expedient to cover 
his former principles with ridicule. It was not till he be- 
came the hottest of factious incendiaries out of power that 
men realized the baseness of his despotic conservatism in 
power. It was not till he betrayed the interests of St. 
Germains that it was possible to estimate the extent of his 
treachery to the interests of Hanover. It was not till he 
became the teacher of Voltaire and the Apostle of Scep- 
ticism that his unscrupulousness in forcing on the Bill 
against Occasional Conformity and in originating the 
Schism Bill fully revealed itself. 

Some of his biographers have indeed labored to explain 
away many of the inconsistencies of his public conduct. 
In other words, they have attempted to do for Bolingbroke 
what in ancient times Isocrates attempted to do for Busiris, 
and what in our own day Mr. Beesly has attempted to do 
for Catiline, and Mr. Christie for Shaftesbury. But the 
attempt has failed. The facts speak for themselves. There 
can be no doubt about Bolingbroke's repeatedly declaring 
the Revolution to be the guarantee of our civil and relig- 
ious liberties, and that both before and after his fall he la- 
bored to set the Act of Settlement aside. There can be no 



12 ESSAYS. 

doubt about his satisfying himself that if the Pretender 
ascended the throne without giving pledges for the secur- 
ity of our national faith there would be civil war, and that 
he moved heaven and earth to put the Pretender on the 
throne without insisting on any such pledges. It is cer- 
tain that he defended the Treaty of Utrecht mainly on the 
ground of England's exhaustion being sucli that without 
repose paralysis was imminent; and that not long after- 
wards he was lamenting that he could not at the head of 
a French army violate his own Treaty, and plunge that 
country, of which he had boasted himself the savior, into 
the double horrors of foreign invasion and internecine 
strife. It is certain that he professed the principles of the 
moderate Tories, of the extreme Tories, of the Jacobites, 
of the Hanoverians, of the Whigs in oflSce and of the 
Whigs in opposition, and it is equally certain that, with 
the exception of the last party, they all taunted him with 
perfidy. 

It would, however, be a great mistake to confound 
Bolingbroke either with fribbles like the Second Villiers, 
whom he resembled in the infirmities of his temper, or 
with sycophants like Sunderland, whom he resembled in 
want of principle. His nature had, with all its flaws, been 
east in no ignoble mould. The ambition which consumed 
him was the ambition which consumed Caesar and Cicero, 
not the ambition which consumed Harley and Newcastle. 
For the mere baubles of power he cared nothing. Riches 
and their trappings he regarded with unaffected contempt. 
He entered ofiice a man by no means wealthy, and with 
expensive habits; he quitted it with hands as clean as 
Pitt's. The vanity which feeds on adulation never touched 
his haughty spirit. His prey was not carrion. His vast 
and visionary ambition was bounded only by the highest 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 13 

pinnacles of human glory. He aspired to enroll himself 
among those great men who have shaped the fortunes and 
moulded the minds of mighty nations — with the demi-goda 
of Plutarch, with the sages of Diogenes. As a statesman 
ho never rested till he stood without a rival on the summit 
of power. As a philosopher he sought a place beside Aris- 
totle and Bacon, and the infirmities of age overtook him 
while meditating a work which was to class him with Guic- 
ciardini and Clarendon. 

This was not to . be. One faculty had indeed been 
granted him in a measure rarely conceded to the children 
of men — a faculty which is of all others most likely to mis- 
lead contemporaries, and least likely to deceive posterity — 
the faculty of eloquent expression. His style may be 
praised almost without reservation. It is distinguished by 
the union of those qualities which are in the estimation of 
critics sufficient to constitute perfection — by elevation, by 
rapidity, by picturesqueness, by perspicuity, by scrupulous 
chastity, by the charm of an ever-varying music. It com- 
bines, as no other English style has ever combined, the 
graces of colloquy with the graces of rhetoric. It is essen- 
tially eloquent, and it is an eloquence which is, to employ 
his own happy illustration, like a stream fed by an abun- 
dant spring — an eloquence which never flags, which is nev- 
er inappropriate, wliich never palls. His fertility of expres- 
sion is wonderful. Over all the resources of our noble and 
opulent language his mastery is at once exquisite and un- 
limited. Of efiEort and elaboration his style shows no traces. 
His ideas seem to clothe themselves spontaneously in their 
rich and varied garb. He had studied, as few Englishmen 
of that day had studied, the masterpieces of French litera- 
ture, but no taint of Gallicism mars the transcendent puri- 
ty of his English. His pages are a storehouse of fine and 



U ESSAYS. 

graceful images, of felicitous phrases, of new and striking 
combinations. As an essayist he is not inferior to his mas- 
ter, Seneca. As a political satirist he is second only to 
Junius, As a letter-writer he ranks with Pliny and Cicero, 
and we cannot but regret that so large a portion of his 
correspondence is still permitted to remain unpublished. 

On English prose his influence was immediate and per- 
manent. It would not indeed be too much to say that it 
owes more to Bolingbrokc than to any other single writer. 
Hooker and Taylor had already lent it color and pomp ; 
Dry den had given it verve, variety, flexibility ; De Foe and 
Swift had brought it home to the vulgar; the Periodical 
Writers had learned from the pulpit to endow it with ele- 
gance and harmony ; but it was reserved for Bolingbroke 
to be the Cicero of our tongue. He was, in truth, the found- 
er of a great dynasty of stylists. On him Burke modelled 
his various and exuberant eloquence. From him Junius 
learned some of his most characteristic graces. The two 
Pitts made no secret of their obligations to him ; and 
among his disciples are to be numbered Goldsmith,* Gib- 
bon, Hume, and even Macaulay. 

His genius was, it is true, too irregularly cultivated, his 
aspirations too multiform, his reason too essentially under 
the control of passion, to secure him any high place among 
the teachers of mankind, and yet few men have impressed 
themselves more definitely on the intellectual activity of 

* For the influence of Bolingbroke's style on that of Goldsmith 
we would point especially to " The Present State of Polite Learning 
in Europe," and to the Dedication of the " Traveller." What Macau- 
lay learned from him was, we think, the art of combining dignity with 
sprightliness, copiousness with scrupulous purity : many turns of ex- 
pression, and the rhetorical effect both of the short sentence and of 
clause iteration. 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLIXGBROKE. 16 

their age. That great revolution in the study of history 
which found its first emphatic expression in Montesquieu 
is undoubtedly to be traced to him. There is scarcely a 
chapter in Gibbon's great work in which his influence is 
not discernible. By the philosophers of the Encyclopedic 
he was recognized as a leader. Voltaire's obligations to 
him are confessed by Condorcet. To Bolingbroke he 
owed his introduction to the works of Bacon, Newton, and 
Locke; much of his philosophy, many of his historical 
theories. Indeed, Voltaire appears to have regarded him 
with feelings approaching as nearly to reverence as it was 
perhaps possible for him to attain. Idolized by Pope, 
Bolingbroke suggested and inspired some of the most val- 
uable of Pope's compositions — the Essay on Man, the 
Moral Essays, the Imitations of Horace. His influence on 
the academies of Italy is evident from the Elogio of Sal- 
vatore Canella. The spirit which he kindled during the 
administration of Walpole still burns in the epics and bal- 
lad of Glover, in the tragedies of Brooke, in the best of 
Akenside's compositions, in the stateliest of Thomson's 
verses, in the noblest of Collins's odes, in Goldsmith's fine 
philosophic poem, in the most spirited of Churchill's Sat- 
ires. To the influence of his writings is to be attributed 
in no small degree that remarkable transformation which 
converted the Toryism of Rochester and Nottingham into 
the Toryism of Pitt and Mansfield. He annihilated the 
Jacobites. He turned the tide against Walpole, and lie 
formulated the principles which afterwards developed into 
the creed of what is called in our own day Liberal Con- 
servatism. It would in truth be scarcely possible to over- 
estimate the extent of his influence on public opinion be- 
tween 1725 and 1742. 

He sprang from an ancient and honorable race, which 



16 ESSAYS. 

had, as early as the thirteenth century, mingled the blood 
of a noble Norman family with the blood of a Saxon fam- 
ily not less illustrious. William de St. John, a Norman 
knight, was quartermaster - general in the army of the 
Conqueror. The estates which rewarded the services of 
his son passed with other property into the hands of a fe- 
male representative, who became the wife of Adam de 
Port, one of the wealthiest of the Saxon aristocracy. Their 
son William assuming the maiden name of his mother, the 
name De Port was merged in the name of St. John. The 
family grew and prospered. John St. John was one of the 
Council of Nine appointed after the battle of Lewes. The 
widow of his descendant Oliver became by her marriage 
with the Duke of Somerset the grandmother of Henry 
VII. ; and a window in Battersea church, gorgeous with 
heraldic emblazonry, still commemorates this alliance with 
the Tudors. In the reign of Elizabeth the St. Johns be- 
came the Barons of Bletso ; in the reign of James I. one 
of them was created Earl of Bolingbroke. Nor were the 
representatives of the younger line less eminent. The 
services of Oliver St. John as Lord Deputy of Ireland were 
rewarded with the Barony of Tregoze in Wiltshire. Dur- 
ing the civil wars the St. Johns came prominently for- 
ward. The elder line, represented by the Earl of Boling- 
broke, and by that great lawyer — over whose birtli was 
the bar sinister, but who was destined to become a chief- 
justice of England and to adorn his high office — were in 
conspicuous opposition to the Crown. The younger line, 
represented by John St. John, who lost three sons in the 
field, were as conspicuously distinguished by their loyalty. 
The days of trouble passed by, and the subsequent mar- 
riage of Sir Walter St. John, a member of the Royalist 
branch, with Joanna, a daughter of the chief-justice, proba- 



TEE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 17 

bly composed political differences. The young couple set- 
tled at Battersca, to the manor of which Sir Walter had 
succeeded by the death of his nephew. The virtues of the 
Lady Joanna Avere long remembered in the neighborhood. 
Her husband's munificence is more imperishably recorded 
in the school which he founded nearly two centuries ago, 
and which has ever since been one of the ornaments of 
Battersea. His crest and motto may still be seen over the 
gate ; his portrait still adorns the walls. He died at an 
advanced a^-e in 1708. The issue of this marriaa:e was a 
daughter Barbara and a son Henry, of whom we know lit- 
tle, and that little is not to his credit. The dissipated 
habits of the young man probably alarming his parents, 
they resorted to the expedient usual in such cases, and 
the lad became the husband of Mary, second daughter and 
joint -heiress of Robert Rich, Earl of Warwick.* The 
remedy, however, only aggravated the disease. Henry be- 
came worse than ever. At last he brought his reckless 
and dissolute career to a climax by the murder of St. Will- 
iam Escourt in a l)rawl. He was arrested. His friends 
were in despair. After much anxious' deliberation, his 
counsel advised him to plead guilty, and to throw himself 
on the mercy of the King. For some time it was doubt- 
ful whether the united influence of the St. Johns and the 
Riches could prevent him from expiating his crime at Ty- 
burn, or whether indeed the King could, even if he wished 
it, stretch his prerogative so far as to pardon a subject 
convicted of so grave an offence. At last the culprit was 

* The youth appears to have added to his other vices that of hy- 
pocrisy, as we find him described in the " Autobiography of Mar}^ 
Countess of Warwick," as a "young gentleman very good-natured 
and viceless." See "Autobiography," edited by T. C. Croker for 
the Percy Society, p. 35, 



18 ESSAYS. 

permitted to retire to Battersea. A bribe was accepted. 
The case was dropped, and he dragged on a listless and 
good-for-notbing life for nearly half a century longer. Six 
years before this event his wife had borne him a child, who 
was destined to inherit all his vices, but with those vices 
to unite abilities which, if properly directed, and less un- 
happily tempered, might have given him a place in history 
beside Pericles and Chatham, and a place in letters beside 
Bacon and Burke. Henry St. John, afterwards Lord 
Viscount Bolingbroke, was born at Battersea in the Octo- 
ber of 1678, and was baptized on the tenth of that month. 
The house in which he first saw the light has, with the 
exception of one wing, which is still preserved, been long 
since levelled with the ground. "^^ 

For his early education he was indebted to his grand- 
parents, who shared the family residence with their son 
and daughter-in-law. Sir Walter was a member of the 
Established Church, and appears to have been a kind and 
tolerant man. But his wife had been bred among the 
Puritans, and to the ascetic piety of her sect she added, we 
suspect, something of her father's moroseness. She ruled 
the house at Battersea. She superintended the education 
of her grandchild. It was conducted on principles of in- 
judicious austerity, and Bolingbroke never recurred to this 
period of his life without disgust. The good lady delight- 
ed in perusing the gigantic tomes in which the Puritan 
Fathers discussed the doctrine of the Eucharist and the 
Atonement. Patrick's " Mensa Mystica " had been written 
under her roof, and she had shared with her husband the 
honor of the dedication ; but Patrick held only the second 
place in her affections — her favorite was Dr. Manton. This 
stupendous theologian — five of his folios still slumber in 
our libraries — prided himself on having written a hundred 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 19 

and nineteen sermons on the hundred and nineteenth 
Psalm, and to the perusal of these hundred and nineteen 
sermons she compelled her grandson to betake himself.* 
There is reason for believing that the child was for some 
time under the tuition of Daniel Burgess, a learned and 
eccentric Nonconformist, who is now remembered chiefly 
as the butt of Swift, but who was in those days celebrated 
as one of the most popular of metropolitan preachers. His 
definition of a lawsuit and of thorough-paced doctrine arc 
still treasured by collectors of good sayings. 

In due time Henry was removed to Eton, where he re- 
mained for some years. About his career there tradition 
is silent. We know that Walpole was one of his contem- 
poraries ; and Coxe has added that the seeds of that long 
and bitter rivalry which ever afterwards existed between 
the two school-fellows were sown in the class-room and the 
play-ground. This, however, is highly improbable. Wal- 
pole acquitted himself creditably during his school career, 
and is not likely either by indolence or dulness to have 
permitted a lad two years his junior to assume the posi- 
tion of a rival. What became of him after leaving Eton 
it is now impossible to discover. His career is indeed at 
this point involved in more obscurity than his biographers 
seem to suspect. They assert, for example, that on leaving 
Eton he matriculated at Oxford, and became an undergrad- 
uate of Christ Church, and they have described with some 
circumstantiality his University career. But of this resi- 
dence at Oxford there is no proof at all. There is no entry 
of his matriculation on the books of the University, and 
these books are not, we believe, in any way deficient dur- 

* This is Bolingbroke's own account, but a reference to Dr. Man- 
ton's folio shows that the number was not a hundred and nineteen, 
but a hundred and ninety. 



20 ESSAYS. 

ing the period of his supposed connection with Oxford. 
There is no trace of liis residence at Christ Churcli on tlie 
Buttery Lists, and the Buttery Lists have from the mid- 
summer of 1695 been kept with scrupulous exactness. 
There is no trace of his residence to be found in the entry 
books of the Dean. We cannot find any alhision to his 
ever having been a resident member of the University in 
the correspondence of those accomplished men who must 
have been his contemporaries. But one circumstance seems 
to us conclusive. He was the patron of John Philips, and 
that pleasing poet has in two of his poems spoken of him 
in terms of exaggerated encomium. Philips was a student 
of Christ Church, and in his " Cyder " he takes occasion 
to celebrate the eminent men connected with that distin- 
guished seminary ; but though he mentions Uarcourt and 
Bromley, he makes no allusion to St. John. The error, we 
suspect, arose from this. On the occasion of Queen Anne's 
visit to Oxford in 1702 St. John was made an honorary 
doctor and entered on the books of Christ Church. He 
was proud of the honor which the College of Atterbmy 
and Uarcourt had done him, and not only delighted to 
speak of himself as a Christ Church man, but ever after- 
wards considered that a member of that foundation had a 
special claim to his patronage. But Christ Church is not 
entitled to number him among lier sons. 

Wherever he pursued his studies, he probably pursued 
them with assiduity. He was all his life distinguished by 
attainments the groundwork of which is seldom or never 
laid in after-years. The specimen which he has left of his 
Latin composition, with the letters to Alari, prove that he 
had paid some attention to the niceties of verbal scholar- 
ship. Much of the recondite learning which he so osten- 
tatiously paraded in his philosopliical works was it is evi- 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 21 

dent, the trophy of adroit plagiarism, but it is. no less 
evident — as every page of his writings shows — that his 
classical acquirements, if not exact, were unusually exten- 
sive. He was conversant with the Roman prose writers, 
from Yarro to Aulus Gellius, and the frequency with which 
he draws on them for purposes of analogy, comment, and 
illustration, the felicity with which he adapts their senti- 
ments and opinions, the ready propriety with which their 
allusions and anecdotes respond to his call is a sufficient 
guarantee for the assimilative thoroughness with which he 
had perused them. Indeed his acquaintance with Cicero 
and Seneca appears to have been such as few scholars have 
possessed. He had studied them as Montaigne studied 
Plutarch, as Bacon studied Tacitus. To the poets he had 
not, we suspect, paid the same attention, though his quota- 
tions from Lucretius, Horace, and Virgil are often exqui- 
sitely happy. Whatever may have been his attainments 
in Greek, he had at least mastered the rudiments, could 
discuss the relative signification of words, and had read in 
some form or other the principal orators. Homer and He- 
siod among the poets, and most of the historians. 

It is the privilege of later years to mature and apply, 
rarely to initiate, such studies. We are therefore inclined 
to suspect that his biographers have plunged him into de- 
bauchery a little prematurely, and that these years of his 
life, wherever they may have been passed, were judicious- 
ly and profitably employed. But the scene soon changed. 
In 1697 we find him in London, where he abandoned him- 
self to the dominion of the two passions which ever after- 
wards ruled him — inordinate ambition and inordinate love 
of pleasure. At thirty he was in the habit of observing 
that his heroes were Alcibiades and Petronius ; at twenty 
his model, he said, was his cousin John Wilmot, Earl of 



22 ESSAYS. 

Rochester. That unhappy nobleman had, ten years before, 
terminated a career to which it would be difficult to find a 
parallel in the annals of human folly. Everything that can 
make the life of man splendid, prosperous, and happy, 
both Nature and Fortune had lavished on him. Nature 
had endowed him with abilities of a high order, with liter- 
ary instincts, with refined tastes, with brilliant wit, with a 
lyrical genius which, if properly cultivated, might have 
placed him beside Berangcr and Ilerrick, with a hand- 
some and engaging person, with manners singularly win- 
ning and graceful. Fortune had added rank and opulence, 
and had thus opened out to him all sources of social and 
intellectual enjoyment ; had^enabled him to gratify every 
ambition, to cultivate every taste, and to enter that sphere 
where the qualities that distinguished him could be seen 
to the greatest advantage. Unhappily, however, a de- 
praved and diseased mind counteracted these inestimable 
blessings. He was anxious only to be pre-eminent in in- 
famy. A premature death had been the just penalty for 
his madness; but the tradition of his genius and of his 
brilliant parts had, in the eyes of young and giddy men, 
lent a romantic interest to his career. They learned his 
poems by heart. They retailed his witticisms. They list- 
ened with eagerness to stories about his bravery at Ber- 
gen, his wit-combats with Villiers, his amours, his convivial 
excesses, and they were anxious to follow in his footsteps. 
Indeed, the influence of Rochester on the youth of London 
in the latter quarter of the seventeenth century appears to 
have resembled, in some degree, the influence of Byron on 
the same class a hundred and twenty years later. But St. 
John was not content to be a mere zany, he aspired to ri- 
val his master as a wit, and to outstrip him as a libertine. 
He was now in his twentieth year, overflowing with ani- 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 23 

mal spirits, drank with vanity, and burning to indemnify 
himself for the restraints of Eton and Battersea. He allied 
himself with a band of reprobates who were striving to 
recall, under the purer rule of William, the wild license of 
the Restoration, and he became, while a mere boy, the worst 
member of that bad clique. His excesses moved astonish- 
ment even in those who had witnessed the orgies of his 
cousin. He passed whole weeks in unbroken rounds of 
riotous debauchery. He could drink down veteran drunk- 
ards. He ran naked through the Park.* He was a match 
for old Wycherley in ribald profanity and in all the arts 
of licentious intrigue. To the poetical genius of Roches- 
ter he had indeed no pretension, but he did his best to 
remedy the deficiency. He sought the acquaintance of 
Dryden, whom he visited on more than one occasion in 
Gerrard Street. The poet had just completed his version 
of Virgil, and St. John wrote a copy of verses which may 
still be read among the commendatory poems prefixed to 
that work. They are remarkable for nothing but the 
grossness of their imagery, and for the skill with which 
literary compliment is conveyed in the allusions of the 
bagnio. 

He now set out on his travels, probably leaving Eng- 
land in the autumn of 1697. He was away nearly two 
years. Of his movements during that time nothing cer- 
tain is known, but it may be gathered from an allusion in 
one of his letters that he visited Milan. Whatever por- 
tion of this period he may have spent in Italy, we are in- 
clined to think with Mr. Macknight that much the greater 
part of it was spent at Paris. The Peace of Ryswick had 

* The authority for this is Goldsmith. Follnitz was an cyc-witncss 
of a similarly disgusting freak in the same place. — 3femoirs, vol, ii., 
p. 470. 



24 ESSAYS. 

just been concluded, and the attractions of the French cap- 
ital were once more open to Englisli visitors. In 1698 
the Earl of Jersey had succeeded Portland as Ambassador. 
He was connected by family ties with St. John. He was 
on intimate terms with Sir Walter, and was in a position 
to be of great service to a lad beginning the world. It is 
indeed by no means improbable that young St. John, if 
not attached to his suite, at all events shared his protec- 
tion, and was introduced by him to the salons of the Fau- 
bourg St. Germain and to the antechambers of Marly. It 
would be difficult on any other supposition to account for 
the delicate purity with which he ever afterwards both 
wrote and spoke the French language, and for his posses- 
sion of an accent so perfect that even the fastidious ear of 
Voltaire was unable to detect a jarring chord. With this 
useful accomplishment he returned to England about the 
beginning of 1700. He at once devoted himself to his 
old pursuits, wdiich appear to have been in a measure in- 
terrupted during his residence on the Continent. .He com- 
posed a long Pindaric ode, in which he informs his read- 
ers that he bad for some time been " wandering from the 
Muses' seat" and been visiting the "gloomy abodes of 
Wisdom and Philosophy," but that he had repented of his 
folly, and was returning to Poesy and Love. His return 
to the latter took the form of an intrigue with an orange 
girl who hung about the lobby of the Court of Requests ; 
his return to the former, a poetical epistle addressed to his 
sordid paramour. These verses Lord Stanhope not only 
pronounces to be beautiful, but sees in them evidence of 
genius. They appear to us neither better nor worse than 
a dozen other poems of a similar character which might 
be selected from the miscellanies of that day, and the mis- 
cellanies of that day moved the derision of Pope. Many 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 25 

years later, indeed, lie produced three stanzas, which are 
by no means contemptible.* 

The ostentations dissoluteness of his life was about this 
time aggravated by his taking a step which must have 
made Sir Walter tremble for the family estates. A wom- 
an whose beauty was a tradition in London circles, even 
as late as the days of Goldsmith, but whose extravagance 
had already completed the ruin of three lovers, was now 
under his protection. It became necessary to resort to 
extreme measures. Menaces were vain : exhortations were 
vain. The abilities of the young libertine were unques- 
tionably great. His family was influential. He was now 
twenty-two, and his relatives wisely resolved to appeal to 
the only passion which rivalled in any degree his devotion 
to pleasure — the passion of ambition. They offered him 

* As these verses have escaped the notice of all Bolingbroke's bi- 
ographers, we will transcribe them. They were written for insertion 
in the masque of "Alfred," as part of "Rule Britannia," and are to 
be found in J)avies's "Life of Garrick," vol. ii., p. 39. 

"Should war, should faction shake the isle, 
And sink to poverty and shame; 
Heaven still shall o'er Britannia smile, 
Restore her wealth and raise her name. 
Rule Britannia, etc. 

" How blest the Prince reserved by fate 
In adverse days to mount thy throne ! 
Renew thy once triumphant state, 
And on thy grandeur build his own. 
Rule Britannia, etc. 

" His race shall long in times to come 
(So Heaven ordains) thy sceptre wield ; 
Rever'd abroad, beloved at home, 

And be at once thy sword and shield. 
Rule Britannia, etc." 
2 



26 ESSAYS. 

a seat in Parliament. They suggested that he should take 
a wife, and they offered in the event of his marriage to 
settle on him the family estates in the counties of Wilts, 
Surrey, and Middlesex. To these proposals he acceded. 
At the close of 1700 he became the husband of Frances 
Winchcscombe, daughter and one of the co-heiresses of Sir 
Henry Winchcscombe, a descendant of the famous Jack 
of Newbury. The lady had a handsome fortune, and suc- 
ceeded on the death of her father to a fine estate near 
Reading. She was, moreover, possessed of considerable 
personal attractions. John Philips has celebrated her 
charms, and in 1713 we find Swift writing to Stella: 
"Lady Bolingbroke came down while we were at dinner, 
and Parnell stared at her as if she were a goddess." The 
Dean delighted in her society, and humorously declared 
himself her lover. The married life of youthful libertines 
has been the same in all ages. St. John returned her 
affection, which was on more than one occasion in the 
course of his eventful life very touchingly evinced, at first 
with indifference, and subsequently with contempt. But 
Frances Winchcscombe was a true woman. The conclu- 
sion of fifteen years of domestic misery, aggravated by his 
studied neglect and shameless infidelities, found her still 
clinging to him — " a little fury if they mention my dear 
lord without respect, which sometimes happens." On 
hearing, however, of his connection with the Marquise de 
Villette at Marcilly she became entirely estranged from 
him, altered her will, and left him nothing when she died 
in 1718. One or two angry paragraphs about the pecun- 
iary loss he had sustained, and a bitter reflection on the 
suppleness of religion, to which he appears in some way 
to have attributed her conduct, was all the notice he took 
of her death. Short! v after the celebration of this inau- 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 27 

spicious marriage lie succeeded his father as member for 
Wootton Basset in Wiltshire, and he took his seat in the 
Parliament which assembled on February 6, IVOI. 

He entered public life at one of those conjunctures 
which veteran statesmen contemplate with dismaj^ but 
which have in all ages been hailed with delight by young 
and aspiring spirits. For fourteen years the country had 
been convulsed with the struggles of two great factions. 
These factions owed their origin not to superficial and ac- 
cidental differences, which easily arising are easily recon- 
ciled, but to differences which admit of no compromises, 
and are in their very nature substantial and inveterate. 
Each was the representative of principles which can never 
under any circumstances meet in harmony, which should 
and may balance each other, but which were at that time 
in violent and terrible collision. Each was animated by 
those passions which are of all passions the most malig- 
nant and abiding. In the perplexity of an awful crisis 
they had for a moment suspended their animosities. 
Their leaders had come to terms. There had been a sem- 
blance of unity. Scarcely, however, had the Prince of 
Orange ascended the throne, than they had again broken 
out into tenfold vehemence and fury. For some time 
"William scarcely seems to have been aware of the nature 
of the struggle which was raging round him, and had per- 
sisted in attempting to appease the belligerents; at last 
he saw, and he saw with the deepest regret, that all con- 
ciliatory measures were out of the question, and that he 
must attach himself to one of the two factions. He de- 
cided in favor of the party which had raised him to the 
throne, which would in all probability support his foreign 
policy, and which had since 1691 been gradually gaining 
ground. In September, 1697, the Peace of Ryswick was 



28 ESSAYS. 

signed. It was indeed a mere armistice to enable William 
and Louis to discuss a complicated and momentous ques- 
tion. That mighty empire on which the sun never set 
was in all likelihood about to be left without an heir. It 
was necessary to settle the succession, for on the ultimate 
destination of those vast dominions hung the fate of En- 
rope for many generations. William was anxious that they 
should not pass into the hands of the French claimant ; 
Louis was equally anxious that they should not pass into the 
hands of Austria, or into the hands of the Electoral Prince. 
The two kings determined therefore to divide them be- 
tween the three competitors, and the First Partition Treaty 
was arranged. Meanwhile William turned his attention to 
affairs in England, for all depended on the cordial support 
of the English Ministry and of the English people. In 
England, however, everything was going wrong; a Tory 
reaction was setting in. The first symptoms of that reac- 
tion were evident in the Parliament which assembled after 
the Peace of Ryswick; the reaction itself set in in full 
force when Parliament assembled in December, 1698. On 
that occasion there was a schism in the Whig ranks ; on 
that occasion the first definite blow was aimed at William's 
foreign policy. The army was reduced. The navy was 
reduced. The Dutch guards were dismissed. Then fol- 
lowed the attack on Montague ; next came the inquiry into 
Orford's administration, and, lastly, the question of the 
Crown grants. Suddenly arrived the intelligence that the 
Electoral Prince was no more. Again Louis and William 
resorted to diplomacy, and the Second Partition Treaty 
was arranged. At length the King of Spain died. It was 
known that he had made a will ; it was known that in that 
will he had nominated a successor, and all Europe was anx- 
ious to know the terms of it. On the 3d of November, 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 29 

1700, the Duke of Abrantes presented himself before the 
ambassadors and grandees who were thronging the ante- 
chambers of the Escurial, and announced that the whole 
Spanish monarchy had been bequeathed to the grandson of 
Louis. In the event of Louis refusing the succession for 
his grandson, it was to pass to Charles, Archduke of Aus- 
tria. William at once saw what would happen ; and when, 
a few weeks afterwards, his rival, in spite of all his solemn 
engagements, accepted the bequest, he could only watch 
with patience the course of events. There was, in truth, 
little to encourage him. The. Tories were now completely 
in the ascendant. Their animosity against the King and 
against his Ministry had reached its climax. The power 
of the Whigs was everywhere declining. The session of 
April, 1700, had been abruptly closed without a speech 
from the throne, and William had been forced, with tears 
of humiliation in his eyes, to dismiss from his councils the 
wisest and the most faithful of his servants. In July the 
death of the Duke of Gloucester left the successor to the 
Crown without an heir. The state of the country was de- 
plorable; from 1690 to 1699 there had been scarcely one 
year of average prosperity. A succession of wretched har- 
vests had spread ruin among the farmers. In some dis- 
tricts trade was almost at a stand-still.* Bread riots had 
broken out in many of the provincial towns. The failure 
of the Land Bank had exasperated the country gentlemen 
who were watching with malignant jealousy the rise of the 
moneyed classes. Nine clergymen out of ten were Jacobites, 
and had been completely alienated from the throne by the 
Toleration Act. The King was not merely unpopular, but 
detested. His cold and repulsive manners, his systematic 

* See Lecky's " History of England in the Eighteenth Century," 
and the authorities there quoted, vol. i., p. 17. 



30 ESSAYS. 

attempts to embroil England with foreign powers, his 
Dutch favorites, his exorbitant grants to those favorites, 
the protection he extended to needy aliens, his struggles to 
maintain a standing army, his suspensions of the Habeas 
Corpus Act, his abandonment of the Darien Colonists, his 
frequent retirements to the Continent, his secluded court — 
all tended to aggravate the public discontent. William 
now saw that the party on which he had relied for sup- 
port was so broken and so powerless that there was noth- 
ing left for him to do but to throw himself into the arms 
of the Tories. He accordingly dissolved the Parliament in 
December, 1700, and summoned another for the following 
February. The Ministry was remodelled and the Tories 
came in. Godolphin was placed at the head of the Treas- 
ury ; Tankerville was Privy Seal, while Hedges succeeded 
Jersey as one of the Secretaries of State. February arrived. 
The Houses met, and St. John took his seat in one of the 
most intemperate and turbulent assemblies which had since 
the days of the Plantagenets disgraced our parliamentary 
history. 

The leader of the Lower House was Robert Harley, a 
man who was destined in a few years to reach the highest 
eminence which a British subject can attain, and to leave a 
name embalmed forever in the verse of Pope and Prior, 
and in the prose of Arbuthnot and Swift. On his entrance 
into public life he had played the part of an intolerant and 
vindictive Whig, but he had since, while retaining many of 
his original principles unimpaired, allied himself with the 
Tories. He had none of those gifts with which Nature 
endows her favorites. His features were gross and forbid- 
ding, his figure mean, his voice inharmonious, his gestures 
singularly uncouth.* To the art of engaging the passions, 

* " The mischievous darkness of his soul " — the Duchess of Marl- 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 31 

or of captivating the reason of the great assembly over 
which he presided, he made no pretension. As a speaker 
lie was tedious, hesitating, confused, and not unfrequently 
unintelligible. Indeed, to the end of his life he remained 
incapable of framing ten sentences of lucid and coherent 
English. His intellect was both small and shiggish, his 
parts were scarcely above mediocrity. But he possessed 
qualities which seldom fail of being rated at many times 
their intrinsic value, lie was cunning, decorous, reticent. 
His temper was not naturally good, but it was under strict 
control, and seldom betrayed him into an indiscreet or dis- 
courteous expression. His studies had been neither various 
nor profound, but they had been judiciously directed. In 
knowledge of the law of Parliament he was not excelled 
either by Seymour or Nottingham. His acquaintance with 
affairs was great, his memory tenacious, his judgment 
sound, his tact consummate. In all the arts of parlia- 
mentary diplomacy he was without a rival. Though in 
private life he sometimes made himself ridiculous by the 
frivolity of his amusements, he loved the society of men 
of genius and letters, and he was the first of English states- 
men who had the sagacity to employ the press as an en- 
gine of political power. To these qualities he added others 
not so respectable. He was deeply tainted with those vices 
which ambition engenders in timid and pusillanimous nat- 
ures. His meanness and treachery would have been con- 
spicuously infamous even in that bad age in which bis po- 

borougli is speaking — " was written in his countenance, and plainly 
legible in a very odd look disagreeable to everybody at lirst sight, 
which being joined with a constant awkward motion, or rather agita- 
tion of his head and body, betrayed a turbulent dishonesty within 
even in the midst of all these familiar airs, jocular bowing and smil- 
ing which he always affected," — Conduct of the Duchess, p. 261. 



32 ESSAYS. 

litical morality had been learned. Dilatory and irresolute, 
his aspirations were sordid and narrow. Ilis indifference 
to truth shocked even the least scrupulous of his colleagues. 
His promises were like the promises of Granville, as ready 
and profuse as they were feigned or forgotten. At this 
moment, however, ho stood well with all parties, for his 
real character was as yet unsuspected even by those who 
knew him best, as men are slower to detect than to prac- 
tise dissimulation. 

St. John probably saw that the star of Harley and the 
Tories was in the ascendant, and that even if a reaction set 
in there would be no room for him in the ranks of the Whig 
oligarchy. To Harley and the Tories he accordingly at- 
tached himself, and to Harley and the Tories he adhered, 
so long as it served his purpose, through all vicissitudes of 
fortune. Some of his biographers have labored to show 
that in taking this step he was acting in strict accordance 
with the principles he had inherited, and probably in ac- 
cordance with his own independent convictions. Such a 
theory is partly false and partly ludicrous. His father and 
his grandfather, in the first place, were Whigs : most of 
his relatives were Whigs ; and he had in early life been 
trained up in doctrines from which the Tories shrank in ab- 
horrence. Nor had his subsequent career been more favor- 
able to the formation of such convictions. The religious 
tenets of the Tories — and those religious tenets were of the 
essence of their politics — he systematically outraged in his 
life, and systematically ridiculed in his conversation. Of 
politics themselves, as he afterwards frankly confessed, he 
knew nothing. But with politics, in any legitimate sense 
of the term, the House was not at that instant engaged. 
There were, indeed, two questions of the last importance 
awaiting discussion — the question of maintaining the bal- 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 33 

ance of power in Europe, and the question of providing 
for the Protestant succession in England. The first had 
been rendered pressing by an act of unparalleled audacity 
on the part of Louis, an act which would, under ordinary 
circumstances, and should under any circumstances have 
been passionately resented. Having obtained the consent 
of the Spanish Government, Louis had suddenly despatched 
an army into the Spanish Netherlands and seized the Bar- 
rier Fortresses. No such calamity had befallen Protestant 
Europe within the memory of man. There was now every 
probability that Holland would fall under the dominion of 
France, and the subjugation of Holland would not only 
fatally disarrange the balance of power but involve conse- 
quences to England such as all who had her interests at 
heart trembled to contemplate. 

The Tories were, however, in no humor for anything but 
party vengeance. Their hour of triumph had come : their 
enemies were at their feet, and they resolved to trample on 
them. They proceeded to impeach the Ministers who were 
responsible for the Partition Treaties. Long and tedious 
controversies resulted. Every day there were unseemly 
collisions between the two Houses. The business of the 
Government stood still. Nothing had been arranged but 
the Act of Settlement, and the Act of Settlement had been 
arranged in such a way as to insult the King. Then the 
country was roused. The Kentish Petition was presented. 
The Legion memorial was drawn up. Fierce debates en- 
sued. On the 14th of June William prorogued the Par- 
liament. On the Vth of September the Grand Alliance was 
concluded. Ten days afterwards occurred an event which 
completely changed the face of affairs. James H. died at 
St. Germains, and Louis XIV. proclaimed the titular Prince 
of Wales King James HL of England. In a few hours a 
2* 



34 ESSAYS. 

courier was at Loo witli the intelligence. William saw 
tliat Lis time had come. He knew the English ; he hur- 
ried to London ; he remodelled the Ministry. The indig- 
nation of the English people at the insult they had received 
knew no bounds. The whole country was transported with 
fury. Both parties were unanimous for war. A bill was 
passed for attainting the Pretender, and so completely had 
the Whigs triumphed that the Abjuration Bill was also 
carried. On the 15th of May, 1702, war was proclaimed 
by concert in London, at Vienna, and at the Hague. But 
William was no more. 

In the debates on the Partition Treaty Impeachments, 
on the Act of Settlement, and on the Kentish Petition, 
young St. John appears to have distinguished himself. A 
high compliment had indeed been paid him. He had been 
appointed by the House to assist Hedges in preparing and 
bringing in an important measure — the bill for the further 
Security of the Protestant Succession — and from this mo- 
ment he rose rapidly to eminence. 

On the accession of Anne the position of the two par- 
ties was a very peculiar one. The point on which all eyes 
were turned was the war, and the war had created a vio- 
lent reaction in favor of the Whigs. It had been the 
triumph of the Whig policy. It had been the realr 
ization of the Whig hopes. It had, to a great extent, been 
the work of the great Whig ruler. But the new Queen 
was a Tory, indeed a bigoted and intolerant Tory ; the 
great general on whom the conduct of the war depended 
was a Tory ; the Ministry on which he thought it expedient 
to rely was a Tory Ministry ; the Privy Council, to which 
he looked for support, was a Privy Council in which the 
names of Somers, Halifax, and Orford were not to be found. 
On the prosecution of the war the two factions had met 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 35 

for a moment on common ground, and by one of the most 
singular revolutions in history the Tories had been enabled 
to supersede their rivals by adopting their policy. For a 
few months all went well. Scarcely, however, had Marl- 
borough's cannon begun to thunder on the Meuse, when 
dissensions began. In the Parliament which assembled in 
October three parties may be distinguished : the Whigs, 
who predominated in the Upper House, but who were in 
a minority in the Lower; the extreme Tories, who were 
represented by Rochester, Nottingham, Jersey, and Nor- 
manby in the Lords, and by Hedges and Seymour in the 
Commons; the moderate Tories, in whose ranks were to 
be found Harley, now for the third time elected Speaker, 
Harcourt, the solicitor -general, and St. John. But the 
two men on whom everything turned were Marlborough 
and Godolphin. Godolphin was now far in the decline of 
life. In official experience and in practical sagacity he had 
no superior amojig contemporary politicians; as a finan- 
cier he was eminently skilful. He had borne a prominent, 
but by no means honorable part in the events of the last 
fifteen years. He had been false to James, and he had 
been false to William, but his character stood deservedly 
high for virtues which were rarely in that age found con- 
joined with laxity of principle. He was incorruptible by 
money. In his management of the Treasury he had shown 
himself scrupulously honest ; in his transactions with men 
of business he was never known to break his word, and he 
had therefore succeeded in inspiring confidence where con- 
fidence is slow to express itself. Though in debate he con- 
fined himself as a rule to the mere expression of his opin- 
ion, delivered in a few bluff sentences, and set off by no 
play on his sullen and impassive features, he had more 
weight with the House than the most accomplished ora- 



36 ESSAYS. 

tors of those times. At Court, indeed, and among men of 
letters he found no favor ; for his manners were the man- 
ners of a carter, and his tastes not exactly those of a Mae- 
cenas or a Leo. They were, in truth, such as little became 
either his age or his position. His awkward gallantries he 
had had the good sense to abandon ; but his addiction 
to gambling, horse-racing, cock-fighting, and the card-table 
amounted to a passion. These frivolous pursuits detracted, 
however, nothing from the respect with which he w^as re- 
garded by his colleagues, as there was no levity in his con- 
versation, which was, as a rule, confined to monosyllables, 
or in his demeanor, which was remarkably grave and re- 
served. Between Marlborough and himself there existed 
the tie of a singularly close and affectionate friendship, 
and this tic had recently been drawn closer by a family 
alliance. 

The main object of Godolphin's policy was to support 
his friend, to find the necessary funds for sustaining the 
war, and to silence those who wished either to control its 
operations or to change its character. Moderate, and cau- 
tious even to timidity, he tried at first to govern by a Min- 
istry in which all parties were represented. Though a 
Tory himself, and dependent on the Tories for support, he 
was unwilling to place himself entirely in their hands, for 
he knew that he only could look for their co-operation up 
to a certain point, and that as soon as the war extended 
its area and assumed an aggressive character he would in 
all likelihood be obliged to fall back upon the Whigs. 
Such a step he could not, however, contemplate without 
apprehension, for the Queen regarded that party with pe- 
culiar aversion. His hope was that he might by skilful 
parliamentary diplomacy be enabled to form out of the 
moderate Tories a body of partisans who would support 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 37 

his war policy, while he could rely with some confidence 
on securing the Queen through tlie influence of the Count- 
ess of Marlborough. 

The first point in which the two bodies came into vio- 
lent collision was the Bill against Occasional Conformity. 
This was introduced by St. John and two other Tory mem- 
bers. He distinguished himself not only by the conspicu- 
ous part he took in the stormy debates which attended its 
progress through the House, but in the Conference held 
subsequently in the Painted Chamber. In the financial 
inquisition for incriminating Halifax we find him one of 
the Commissioners, and in the Disqualification Bill he was 
for the first time pitted against his future enemy Robert 
Walpole, who had taken his seat among the Whigs as 
member for Castle Rising. 

Godolphin and Marlborough soon clearly saw the neces- 
sity of breaking with the High Tories. Though the con- 
duct of the war had not as yet been openly assailed in 
either of the two Houses, symptoms of discontent had al- 
ready declared themselves. The resignation of Rochester 
in 1703 had already relieved them of a troublesome col- 
league. Nottingham, however, still represented his views, 
and had on more than one occasion expressed his disap- 
proval of the conduct of the Government. Indeed he 
made no secret of his intention to put himself at the head 
of an opposition, and if possible to supplant Godolphin 
without resigning office. He began by insisting on the 
removal of Somerset and Devonshire from the Privy Coun- 
cil. This was a test question : and this was refused. Upon 
that he resigned, and his resignation was eagerly accepted 
by Godolphin, who hastened to place the seals in the hands 
of Harley. Next went Jersey and Seymour, Wright, the 
Lord-keeper, followed. Blaithwaytc, the Secretary of War, 



38 ESSAYS. 

then vacated office, and on the 23d of April, 1704, St. 
John was appointed to succeed him. 

As he had not completed his twenty-sixth year when he 
was raised to a post which involved a more than usual 
amount of responsibility, his biographers have concluded 
that he must have owed his advancement to the personal 
intercession of either Ilarley or Marlborough. He owed 
it, we suspect, to Marlborough. Marlborough was in Eng- 
land at the time, and it had been at his suggestion that 
the changes in the Ministry had been made. In a letter to 
Godolphin, not long afterwards, he speaks of St. John as 
a man would speak of one for whose conduct he had in a 
measure made himself responsible.* St. John did not dis- 
appoint the expectations of his friends. Though his pri- 
vate life continued to be marked by the excesses which 
characterized his earlier days, he discharged his public du- 
ties in a way which called forth the admiration even of 
his enemies. The position of a Secretary of War in the 
teeth of a powerful Opposition is a position of no ordinary 
difficulty. It is a position, indeed, to which the tact and 
experience of veteran statesmen have not always been found 
to be equal. Never were the labors of that onerous office 
more exigent and harassing than during the four years of 
St. John's tenure. A war beyond all precedent, complicated 
and momentous, was raging. That war had spread itself 
over the vast area of Europe. Our position in it was un- 
defined. The amount of our contingents, both of men 

* See Marlborough's Letter to Godolphin, Coxe, vol. i,, p. 152, and 
the Stuart Papers, Macpherson, "Original Papers," vol. ii., p. 532, 
where it is said, " Lord Marlborough was always very fond of Harry 
St, John, and on the loss of his son, the Lord Blandford, said he had 
no comfort left but in Harry St. John, whom he loved and considered 
as his son." 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 39 

and resources, was variously assessed and angrily disputed. 
Every step taken in it was submitted to the malignant scru- 
tiny of party jealousy. Every manoeuvre had to be ac- 
counted for to a captious and irritable Opposition. Who- 
ever is acquainted with Marlborough's correspondence at 
this period will be at no loss to understand the difficulties 
with which the young Secretary had to contend. We find 
him constantly before the House — arguing, explaining, 
pleading, refuting. Indeed, his energy, decision, and zeal 
were of infinite service both to Godolphin and Marlbor- 
ough in the troubled and anxious interval between the Au- 
gust of 1704 and the June of 1706. 

At the beginning of 1707 it became more and more ev- 
ident that if the war was to be continued, the Ministry 
must throw itself entirely on the Whigs; for the recent 
successes of Marlborough in Flanders, of Eugene in Italy, 
and of Peterborough in Spain, had, according to the To- 
ries, satisfied the ends of the war, and the Tories were re- 
solved to oppose its continuance. Godolphin had there- 
fore acceded to the wishes of the W^higs in removing 
Hedges, and in placing the seals in the hands of Sunder- 
land, the son-in-law of Marlborough and an uncompromis- 
ing Whig. The chiefs of the Tory party were removed 
from the Privy Council, and from this moment the admin- 
istration of Godolphin and Marlborough assumed a new 
character. It was no longer a Tory but a Whig Ministry ; 
though for a time, at least, Harlcy still continued to hold 
the seals with Sunderland, and St. John retained the post 
of Secretary at War. Harley's conduct excited some sur- 
prise. The truth is he had seen all along that the Church 
and the Queen would ultimately triumph ; that the only 
tie which connected Anne with Godolphin and his col- 
leagues was her personal affection for the Duchess of Marl- 



40 ESSAYS. 

borough ; and that her affection was, owing to the over- 
bearing and imperious character of the favorite, daily de- 
clining. He saw the annoyance with which she regarded 
the recent changes in the Cabinet — her intense dislike of 
Sunderland — her increasing coolness to Godolphin. He 
saw that the predominance of the Whigs depended main- 
ly on the successful prosecution of the war, on its continu- 
ance, on its popularit3\ He saw that a financial crisis was 
at hand. He saw that the High-church Party were gain- 
ing ground, and he perceived how completely the Queen's 
sympathies were with them. He proceeded, therefore, to 
open a secret communication with her by means of his 
cousin Abigail Hill, and while he pretended to be cordially 
co-operating with the Treasurer, he did all in his power to 
inflame the Queen against the foreign and domestic policy 
of the Cabinet. To throw Godolphin off his guard, he re- 
doubled his protestations of fidelity ; and with Marl- 
borough he practised the same elaborate duplicity in a 
series of letters, which have scarcely a parallel in the annals 
of political treachery. At what precise period St. John be- 
came a party to these ignoble intrigues it is by no means 
easy to decide. It is clear from the correspondence of 
Marlborough and from the "Conduct of the Duchess," 
that they both looked upon him as the ally of Harley, and 
that they regarded him with suspicion, though without be- 
ing able to satisfy themselves of his guilt. We are, on the 
whole, inclined to suspect that it was not till the autumn 
of 1707 that he had any share in these scandalous tactics. 
For upward of a year Harley managed with consummate 
hypocrisy to conceal his machinations. At last all was 
discovered, and the Whigs, whose difRcultics had been in- 
creased by the inactivity of the campaign in the Nether- 
lands, bv the disastrous defeat at Almanza, and by the 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 41 

failure of the enterprise against Toulon, resolved to get rid 
of Harley. Anne fought hard for her favorite Minister. 
She refused to give any credence to the Greg scandal ; she 
refused to see anything which incriminated him in the 
affair of Valliere and Bara.* She dilated at mortifying 
length on his eminent services, on his great experience, on 
his sound judgment. Godolphin and Marlborough then 
plainly told her that if Harley remained in office they 
would at once give in their resignation, and that she must 
choose between sacrificing Harley and throwing the affairs 
of Europe into hopeless perplexity. Then, and then only, 
she yielded. On the lltli of February Harley laid down 
the seals; and St. John not only followed him out of of- 
fice, but, on the dissolution in April, resigned his seat. 

His premature departure from a scene in which lie had 
so conspicuously distinguished himself, not unnaturally ex- 
cited^ good deal of surprise. It is not, we think, difficult 
to account for. Had he continued in Parliament he must 
Lave taken one of two courses. He must have apostatized 
and joined the Whigs, or he must have adhered to his 
party and taken his place in the ranks of the Opposition. 
Both courses were fraught with embarrassment. The tri- 
umph of the AVhigs was certainly complete, but it had been 
won at the price of the Queen's favor, in the teeth of the 
Church, and in the teeth of the party opposed to the war. 
A reaction was obviously merely a matter of time, and 
that reaction would in all probability involve the downfall 
of the dominant faction. If, on the other hand, he joined 
the Opposition, he would be compelled to assail a policy 
which he had for some time zealously supported ; he would 
be compelled to ally himself w^ith men whom he regarded 
as enemies against men whom he regarded as friends ; and 

* See Burnet's "History of his Own Times," pp. 821, 822. 



42 ESSAYS. 

he would, moreover, be forced to the indelicate necessity 
of going all lengths against his patrons Marlborough and 
Godolphin. From his country-house he could watch in se- 
curity the course of events, and take a definite step when 
a definite step was prudent. These were, we believe, his 
real motives in withdrawing at this conjuncture to Buck- 
lersbury. 

He abandoned himself with characteristic impetuosity to 
his new whim. He had now, he said, done with politics. 
He was weary of the world. He would devote himself 
henceforth to Philosophy and Literature. He would leave 
affairs of State to meaner men. These remarks — for with 
these remarks he now began to regale his friends — were 
received with roars of laughter, and Swift quotes an epi- 
gram which was proposed by one of them as an appropri- 
ate inscription for the summer-house of the young Recluse. 
It is, we regret to say, quite unfit for repetition here. That 
he applied himself, however, with assiduity to literary pur- 
suits may well be credited. He had arrived at that period 
in life when curiosity is keenest, when sensibility is quick- 
est, when the acquisitive faculties are in their greatest per- 
fection. Indeed, he always spoke of these two years as 
the most profitable he had ever spent. 

In the autumn of 1710 fell that great administration 
which is in some respects the most glorious in our annals 
— the administration of Godolphin and Marlborough — an 
administration which had distinguished itself by no ordi- 
nary moderation in the midst of no ordinary trial ; which 
had in the intoxication of success been conspicuous for 
that calm wisdom which it is the lot of most governments 
to learn only in reverses; which, founded on faction, had 
endeavored with rare magnanimity to adopt a policy of 
concession and reconciliation which could look back on 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 43 

the victories of Blenheim, Ramillies, Oudenarde, Malpla- 
quet, and Saragossa — on the expulsion of the French from 
Flanders and from Germany — on the capture of Gibraltar 
and Minorca — as the trophies of its foreign policy; and 
which could, among many other liberal and salutary meas- 
ures, point to the union of England and Scotland as one 
of the glories of its policy at home. The immediate cause 
of a revolution which altered the course of European his- 
tory was, as every one knows, the impeachment of Sachev- 
crel — perhaps the only act of imprudence of which Godol- 
phin had ever been guilty. It has been asserted that he 
took this impolitic step from motives of personal resent- 
ment. He took it, we know, in direct opposition to the 
advice of Somers* and of the solicitor-general ; he took 
it, there is reason to believe, in opposition to the advice of 
Marlborough and Walpole ; but he took it, we suspect, with 
a deliberate object. The truth is that the party of which 
Sacheverel was the mouth-piece was beginning to assume 
a mischievous activity in political circles. Half the nation 
learned, as Godolphin well knew, their politics from the 
pulpit, and the pulpits were filled with Tories who were 
advancing from philippics against the Whig doctrines to 
philippics against the Whig government. He perceived 
with anxiety the growing power of the Opposition ; and 
he perceived with alarm that a great crisis in public opin- 
ion was approaching. He resolved, therefore, to strike a 
decisive blow while the strength of the Government was 
as yet unimpaired, and there was some chance of its being 
able to grapple successfully with its formidable adversaries. 
The blow was struck, and the Whigs were ruined. It 

* Indeed Somers prophesied that if the prosecution was undertaken 
it would be the ruin of the Whigs. — Swift, History of the Four Last 
Years (Scott's Swift), v. p. 172. 



44 ESSAYS. 

would, however, be an error to suppose — as many histori- 
ans do suppose — that the prosecution of Sacheverel was 
tlie real cause of the sudden collapse of the Whig Ministry. 
The train had long been laid. The prosecution was merely 
the match which fired it. Had Godolphin taken the advice 
of his coadjutors, the catastrophe might have been post- 
poned — it could scarcely have been postponed for long ; it 
was unavoidable, it was inevitable. The Queen had never 
looked upon the Whigs with favor, and at such a time, 
when the two parties were so nicely balanced, no Ministry 
could subsist for long apart from that favor. She suspect- 
ed their political principles; she detested their religious 
toleration; she looked upon many of them as little better 
than infidels : she considered that they had imperilled the 
Church ; that she had been personally aggrieved by them ; 
that they had insulted her husband ; that they had forced 
Ministers on her whom she hated, and had compelled her 
to dismiss Ministers whom she respected. They were, she 
said, constantly outraging her feelings. In July, 1708, for 
example, they had driven her almost frantic by threatening 
to propose in Parliament that the Electoral Prince should 
be invited to settle in England. On the occasion of her 
husband's illness in IVOV, and of his death in 1708, their 
conduct had been marked not merely by disrespect, but by 
gross indelicacy. Nor was the domestic tyranny to which 
she was subjected by the Duchess of Marlborough less 
galling. All these passions and prejudices had moreover 
been sedulously inflamed by Harley and Mrs. Masham. 

But everywhere the current was running in the same 
direction. A reaction was setting in against the Dissent- 
ers. The Naturalization Act had crowded London with a 
rabble of needy and turbulent aliens who had — such was 
the language of Tory demagogues — diverted charity from 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 45 

its proper channel, and been invited over by tlie Whigs to 
assist in the subversion of the Church. Marlborough's re- 
cent application for the captain-generalship for life had 
seriously impaired his popularity. lie already possessed, 
it was said, more power than it became a subject to enjoy, 
and men were beginning to mutter about Cromwell, stand- 
ing armies, and military despotism. The unsatisfactory 
conclusion of the Conferences at the Ilague in the spring 
of 1709, and the recent failure of the Conference at Ger- 
trudcnberg, had irritated the middle classes, who were com- 
plaining heavily of the war — the unnecessary ^protraction 
of which they attributed to the ambition of Marlborough 
and to the party necessities of the Ministry. The re- 
sources of Godolphin had been taxed to the uttermost to 
avert a financial crisis which was now to all appearance at 
hand. For some time Godolphin clung to power with in- 
decent pertinacity ; but on the 8th of August he received 
a brief note from the Queen, in which she curtly intimat- 
ed that she had no further occasion for his services, desir- 
ing at the same time that instead of bringing the White 
Staff to her he would break it. The note was delivered 
by a lackey in the royal livery, not to the Lord-treasurer 
himself but to his hall-porter. Godolphin, irritated at this 
mean and gratuitous insult, broke the staff, and flung, in a 
fit of petulance, the fragments into the fireplace. Such 
was the ignominious conclusion of a long and brilliant 
ministerial career, and such is the gratitude of princes. 

The Treasury was placed in Commission, but Harley be- 
came Chancellor of the Exchequer. He at once proceed- 
ed to form a Ministry, and he attempted with characteris- 
tic caution to trim between the two parties. He was by 
no means inclined to throw himself entirely on the Tories. 
He was anxious for a coalition, lie had interviews with 



46 ESSAYS. 

Cowper, Halifax, and Walpole. He importuned them to 
retain tbeir places. " There was," he said, " a Whig game 
intended at bottom ;" but when asked to explain himself, 
he became unintelligible. Cowper and Halifax gathered, 
however, that if they would consent to remain in the Gov- 
ernment, St. John and Harcourt should be admitted only 
to subordinate offices. They declined the proposal. " If 
any man was ever born under the necessity of being a 
knave, he was" — was the quiet comment which Cowper 
entered in his diary when recording a former interview 
with Harley.* It was indeed soon evident that a mixed 
Ministry was out of the question, that the days of coali- 
tion were over. A faction had triumphed, and a faction 
must rule. Rochester succeeded Somers as President of 
the Council, and St. John received the Seals as Secretary 
of State for the Northern Department : Boyle having the 
good sense to prevent disgrace by a voluntary resignation. 
So entered on its stormy and disastrous career the last 
Ministry of Queen Anne. 

"When St. John received the Seals he was in his thirty- 
third year. It has been said, and it is by no means im- 
probable, that he owed this splendid elevation principally 
to his knowledge of the French language, an accomplish- 
ment which neither Harley nor any member of the Cabinet 
possessed in an adequate degree, but an accomplishment 
which the negotiations contemplated about this time with 
Versailles rendered indispensable in one at least of the two 
secretaries. At the end of September Parliament was dis- 
solved. The nation was now on fire with faction. The 
panic excited by Sachevercl had not yet subsided. The 
elections were almost universally in favor of the Tories, 
and were marked by such excesses of party feeling that life 

* " Diary of William, Earl Cowper," p. 33. 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 47 

was in jeopardy. By day tbe bells clanged joyously from 
tlie Tory strongholds, by night the bonfires roared in the 
squares. Mobs wild with excitement paraded the streets ; 
conventicles and meeting-houses were gutted. An appall- 
ing riot convulsed Westminster, and some of the provin- 
cial towns presented the appearance of places which had 
been exposed to the ravages of war. Meanwhile addresses 
from all quarters of England came pouring in. The doc- 
trines most dear to the Stuarts were everywhere proclaim- 
ed. The Court was thronged with Jacobites and Higb 
Tories, who publicly congratulated the Queen on what they 
termed her emancipation from captivity. "Your Majes- 
ty," said the Dute of Beaufort, "is now Queen indeed." 
In November Parliament met, and St. John took his seat 
as member for Berkshire. 

In the vicissitudes of political history there are certain 
/Conjunctures in which power is more easily acquired than 
/maintained, and it was at one of these conjunctures that 
/ the new Ministry assumed the reins of government. Its 
/ position was in the highest degree perilous and embarrass- 
ing. " It rested," wrote Swift, " on a narrow bottom, and 
was like an isthmus between the Whigs on one side and 
the extreme Tories on the other." Harley saw from the 
very first the precariousness of the tenure by which he 
held. He saw that the Tories could not stand alone. He 
estimated at its real value the popular panic to which he 
had been immediately indebted for his elevation. In the 
Commons he beheld with alarm an Opposition conspicu- 
ous by their abilities and steady co-operation, and he be- 
held with perplexity a ministerial majority conspicuous 
mainly by their insolence, their numbers, and their tumult- 
uous fanaticism. In the Lords he beheld against him the 
most formidable combination of enemies that ever sought 



48 ESSAYS. 

the destruction of a rival faction. The finances were in 
deplorable confusion. Immense supplies were needed, and 
without the confidence of the moneyed class nothing could 
be raised ; but the moneyed class had little confidence in 
the Ministry. Among his colleagues there was no one, 
with the exception of Dartmouth, on whom he could de- 
pend. St. John and Harcourt were for extreme measures, 
and had been in a manner forced on him. Rochester was 
already in open mutiny. Buckinghamshire, whom he re- 
garded with suspicion and dislike, was impracticable; 
Paulet was a mere cipher. He was compelled, therefore, 
to grapple single-handed with the difficulties of his posi- 
tion ; to satisfy, on the one hand, the party which had 
befriended him, and to conciliate, so far as he could, the 
party which were opposing him. His ultimate object was 
a coalition, his immediate object was to prepare the way 
to it. Tie saw that the health of the Queen was failing, 
and the question of the succession imminent. He shrank, 
therefore, from compromising himself either at Hanover 
or at St. Germains. He wrote to the Elector, assuring him 
of his good intentions. He put himself as soon as possi- 
ble into communication with the Pretender. At home he 
fenced, he trimmed, he equivocated. The necessity of a 
peace with France was obvious; without it he was at the 
mercy of his opponents ; but to conclude a peace on any- 
thing but on the most advantageous terms to England 
would in all probability cost the Cabinet their heads. With 
consummate tact he declared, therefore, his resolution of 
supporting the Allies, while he took measures to under- 
mine them in popular estimation. He provided for the 
vigorous prosecution of the war, while he enlarged on the 
expediency of peace. He did everything in his power to 
conciliate Marlborough, while ho connived at attacks on 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 49 

him. He upheld him in the field, while he annihilated his 
influence in the closet. He prepared also, in addition to 
these devices, to call in the assistance of a more formidable 
power. 

In the preceding August the Tories had, at the suggest- 
ion of St. John, started the Examiner. Several numbers 
had already appeared. They had not been distinguished 
by conspicuous ability, but during the course of the elec- 
tions a pamphlet, entitled a " Letter to the Examiner,^'' 
had attracted so much attention that it had elicited a reply 
from the pen of Earl Cowper. The paper in question wiis 
an attack on the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough, on 
the protraction of the war, and on the ruinous selfishness 
of the Allies. It pointed out in angry and declamator}' 
terms that England was the dupe of Austria and the tool 
of Holland, " a farm to the Bank and a jest to the whole 
world ;" that she had engaged in the war as a confederate, 
that she was now proceeding in it as a principal; that the 
objects of the Grand Alliance had long since been attained, 
and that ruin and bankruptcy were now staring her — the 
prey of a wicked faction — in the face. The pamphlet was, 
as every one knew, the work of St. John. It was a suffi- 
cient indication of the policy he meant to pursue as a Min- 
ister; it was an indication, indeed, of the policy Harley 
intended to pursue. But Harley was by no means inclined 
to trust to his impetuous colleague either the development 
of his schemes or the interpretation of his policy. He 
proceeded, therefore, to put the press under his own con- 
trol. He had an interview with De Foe, whose Review 
was at that time the most influential paper in the king- 
dom, and De Foe was instructed to dilate on the First 
Minister's well-known inclination towards the Whigs. He 
sought the assistance of Charles Davenant, whose name is 

3 



60 ESSAYS. 

scarcely remembered now, but who was in 1710 one of the 
ablest writers on politics and finance that British journal- 
ism could boast. He won over Prior, Rowe, and Parnell. 
He made overtures to Steele ; and though Steele preferred 
to remain in the Whig ranks, a more illustrious apostate 
was preparing to quit them. Swift had recently arrived 
in London. He had been received with coldness by Go- 
dolphin. He had been treated with duplicity, he said, by 
Somers. He had been grossly insulted by AVharton. He 
had done great services for the Whigs. These services 
had been ignored, and his sensitive pride was wounded. 
He called on Harley, and Harlcy, by a few courteous words, 
succeeded in securing the aid of the greatest master of po- 
litical controversy which this country had ever seen. 

At the beginning of November Swift undertook the edi- 
torship of the Examiner, and for upward of three years 
he fought the battles of the Ministry as no one had ever 
yet fought the battles of any Ministry in the world. With 
a versatility unparalleled in the history of party warfare, 
he assailed his opponents in almost every form which satire 
can assume ; in Essays which are still read as models of 
terse and luminous disquisition ; in philippics compared 
with which the masterpieces of Cicero will, in point of 
vituperative skill, boar no comparison ; in pamphlets which 
were half a century afterwards the delight of Burke and 
Fox : in ribald songs, in street ballads, in Grub Street epi- 
grams, in ludicrous parodies. He had applied bis rare 
powers of observation to studying the peculiarities of ev- 
ery class in the great family of mankind, their humors, 
their prejudices, their passions ; and to all these he knew 
how to appeal with exquisite propriety. He was a master 
of the rhetoric which casts a spell over senates and tri- 
bunals, and of the rhetoric which sends mobs yelling to 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 51 

the tar-barrel or the club- stick. With every weapon in the 
whole armory of scorn he was equally familiar. In bois- 
terous scurrility he was more than a match for Oldmixon. 
In delicate and subtle humor he was more than a match 
for Addison. In an age when the bad arts of anonymous 
polemics had been brought to perfection, his lampoons 
achieved a scandalous pre-eminence. His sarcasm and in- 
vective were terrific. His irony made even the Duchess 
of Marlborough quail ; his pasquinades drove Eugene in 
ignominy from our shores ; his broadsides made it perilous 
for the Opposition to show their faces in the streets. But 
however remarkable were his abilities as an unscrupulous 
assailant, his abilities as an unscrupulous advocate were not 
less consummate. AVhere his object was persuasion, he 
was indifferent to everything but effect. He hesitated at 
nothing. When the testimony of facts was against him, 
he distorted them beyond recognition. When testimony 
was wanting, he invented it. When the statements of his 
opponents admitted of no confutation, he assumed the air 
of an honest and stout-hearted Englishman who refused 
to be duped. His diction — plain, masculine, incisive — 
came home to every one ; and the monstrous effrontery of 
his assumptions w^as seldom suspected by readers whose 
reason was enthralled by the circumstantial conclusiveness 
with which he drew his deductions. In truth, of all writers 
who have ever entered the arena of party politics. Swift 
had, in a larger measure than any, the most invaluable of 
all qualifications — the art of making truth assume the ap- 
pearance of elaborate sophistry, and the art of making 
elaborate sophistry assume the appearance of self-evident 
truth. With these formidable powers he entered the camp 
of Harley. 

For a few weeks all went well. The cautious policy of 



52 ESSAYS. 

Harley was steadily pursued. The supplies were voted 
and raised. The war w^as vigorously prosecuted. The lan- 
guage of the Tory press was the language of moderate 
Whigs. In December Marlborough arrived in England. 
He had a long interview with St. John. St. John candid- 
ly explained to him the intentions of the Ministry. They 
would support him in the war so long as the Queen con- 
tinued him in command. They had no ill-feeling towards 
him. They should be sorry to lose him. He must, how- 
ever, consent to two things — he must insist upon the re- 
moval of his wife from Court, and he must " draw a line 
between all that had passed and all that is to come :" in 
other words, he must quit the Whigs, who were his ene- 
mies, and he must join the Tories, who were his friends. 
He then proceeded to give him a long lecture on the dif- 
ference between the two parties. To all this Marlborough 
listened with patient urbanity. He was, he said, worn out 
with age, fatigue, and misfortune ; he had done wrong in 
joining the Whigs, he would return to his old friends. 
He did nothing of the sort, and he never meant to do so. 
He struggled hard to prevent the degradation of his wife, 
but all was in vain, and the high offices she had held were 
divided between the Duchess of Somerset and Mrs. Masham. 
The failure of this negotiation with Marlborough was a 
severe blow to Harley, who found himself more and more 
thrown into the power of the extreme Tories. Party-spirit 
was now runnino- hio-h in both Houses. The conduct of 
the war in Spain was the point at issue. The Whigs took 
their side by Gal way, and the Tories by Petciborough. St. 
John, at the head of the Tories, harangued against Galway. 
The war, he said, had been grossly neglected in Spain to 
give effect to the triumphs of Marlborough in Flanders, 
and he had, he continued, no doubt that to the scandalous 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 53 

— to the criminal — neglect of the war in Spain was to be 
attributed not only the disaster at Almanza, but the failure 
of the expedition to Toulon. At last a vote of censure 
was passed on Galway, and a vote of thanks to Peter- 
borough. The Tories were mad with joy, and the Whigs 
with chagrin. 

Meanwhile a schism was forming in the Tory ranks. The 
extreme members of that faction — and the extreme mem- 
bers formed the majority — began to clamor against Harley. 
They would have no half measures. They would have no 
dallying with the Whigs. Why was the Examiner speak- 
ing civilly about Marlborough ? How long were they go- 
ing to be a farm to the Bank ? When were they going to 
have a peace ? Why were not the Whig dogs impeached ? 
At the head of these malcontents was Rochester. Every 
day their complaints became more intemperate and more 
insolent. The October Club was formed. Nightly meet- 
ings were held. The crisis was alarming, and Harley fell 
ill. " The nearer I look upon things," wrote Swift to Stel- 
la, " the worse I like them. The Ministry are able seamen, 
but the tempest is too great, the ship too rotten, and the 
crew all against them." It was rumored that the Duchess 
of Somerset was superseding Mrs. Masham in the Queen's 
affections, and that Somers had been twice admitted to a 
private audience. Suddenly an event occurred which com- 
pletely changed the face of affairs. 

In the course of his licentious pleasures St. John had 
made the acquaintance of a dissolute French adventurer. 
His name was Antoine de Guiscard. Originally an abbe, 
he had become successively a political demagogue, a sol- 
dier, and a parasite. His life had been stained by almost 
every vice to which human depravity can stoop. His ab- 
bey resembled, it was said, the groves of Paphos. Even 



64 ESSAYS. 

the vestals of his religion had not been safe from his sac- 
rilegious libertinism. One of his mistresses he had poi- 
soned. A steward whom he suspected of peculation he 
had put with his own hand to the rack. In Rouergue, 
where he had excited a rebellion and left his colleagues to 
be broken on the wheel, he had been hung in effigy by the 
magistrates. Entering subsequently into the service of the 
English, he had proposed several wild schemes for the in- 
vasion of his own country which had not been regarded 
with much favor, and since the battle of Almanza he had 
resided on a pension in London. There St. John, at that 
time Secretary of AVar, fell in with him. Their acquaint- 
ance soon ripened into intimacy. They gambled and drank 
together. They paid court to the same mistress and lived 
for some time in sordid community of pleasures. The 
woman gave birth to a child. A dispute about its pater- 
nity arose, and the two friends parted in anger. At the 
beginning of 1711 Guiscard attempted to open a secret 
correspondence with France. His letters were intercepted. 
He was arrested on a warrant signed by St. John, and car- 
ried by the Queen's messengers to the Cockpit. The scene 
which ensued is well known. In the course of his exam- 
ination he rushed forward, and with a penknife which he 
had managed to secrete stabbed Harley in the breast. For 
about six weeks the First Minister was the most popular 
man in England. His house was besieged by crowds of 
anxious inquirers. He had fallen a victim, it was said, to 
his patriotism. Guiscard had no doubt selected him be- 
cause of his hostility to France and to Popery. Guiscard 
had meant — such was the audacious assertion of Swift — 
to make his way to AVindsor and to assassinate the Queen, 
but, failing that, had aimed his blow at the most faithful 
of her servants. The truth reallv was that Guiscard's das- 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 55 

tardly act bad been prompted merely by personal resent- 
ment, as Ilailey had struck oS a hundred pounds from his 
pension, and had at the same time declined to put it on the 
permanent list. Indeed there is reason to believe that the 
wretch had originally intended to attack St. John, with 
whom he twice attempted, in the course of his examination, 
to have a private interview. But Harley had been stabbed 
— and Harley was the martyr. At the end of May he was 
Earl of Oxford. A few days afterwards he was presented 
with the White Staff. Nor was this all. Shortly before 
the fortunate accident to which he owed so much, he had 
with the assistance of St. John organized a committee to 
inquire into the expenditure of the last Ministry. This 
scrutiny, undertaken with the object of casting a slur on 
Godolphin and his colleagues, was conducted with scandal- 
ous unfairness. The Report was issued, and the Report 
announced that upward of thirty-five millions sterling had 
been unaccounted for. The effect produced was the effect 
intended. The Whig leaders became more unpopular than 
ever, and the confidence which had once been placed in 
Godolphin was immediately transferred to Harley. His 
position was now to all appearance impregnable. His cred- 
it was high. The Queen, and the two favorites who ruled 
the Queen, were his friends. The death of Rochester had 
relieved him of his most troublesome colleague. Even the 
October Club had relented. From this moment, however, 
his power began gradually to decline. "It soon appeared," 
says Burnet, " that his strength lay in managing parties, 
and in engaging weak people by rewards and promises to 
depend upon him, and that he neither thoroughly under- 
stood the business of the Treasury nor the conduct of for- 
eign affairs." 

The star of St. John now rose rapidly into the ascend- 



66 ESSAYS. 

ant. The struo'orle between the two Ministers had indeed 
already begun. While Harley was confined to his chamber 
by the knife of Guiscard, the subordinate had passed into 
the rival. The truth is, recent events had convinced St. 
John of three things — the real strength of the Tory party 
if judiciously consolidated ; the impossibility of a coalition 
with the Whigs ; the ruinous folly of trimming and equiv- 
ocating. But he saw also that the Ministry could not 
stand without a peace, and without securing the unpro- 
vided debts, and that these measures could be carried only 
by Oxford, who had the ear of the Queen, the confidence 
of the moderate Tories, and the supreme direction of af- 
fairs. To break with the Treasurer before he could step 
into his place would be destruction. He would therefore 
co-operate with him so far as the common interests of 
their party went, but he would have no share in his deal- 
ings with the Whigs. He would put himself at the head 
of the extreme Tories, arm and inflame them against the 
Whigs, and force on through every obstacle the peace with 
France. He now plunged headlong into those dark and 
tortuous intrigues which finally drove him in shame from 
his country, and have made his name ever since synony- 
mous with all that is most odious in a reckless and un- 
principled public servant, and all that is most contemptible 
in a treacherous and self-seeking diplomatist. 

In the preceding January secret communications had 
been opened with France. In the middle of August it was 
suspected that a peace was in contemplation. In the mid- 
dle of October it became known that preliminary articles 
had been signed. In a moment the whole kingdom was 
in a blaze. The Allies were beside themselves with anger 
and chagrin. Marlborough remonstrated with the Queen. 
Buys had already been sent over from Holland to protest. 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 57 

Botlimar followed with a memorial from the Elector. De 
Gallas, the Austrian Ambassador, behaved with such inso- 
lence that he was forbidden the Court. The fury of the 
Whigs knew no bounds, and they prepared for a desperate 
effort to defeat the Government. Deputations were formed, 
protests signed, meetings summoned. The public mind, 
which had for many months been kept in a state of the 
most exquisite irritability by party pamphleteers, was now 
goaded almost to the verge of madness. Every press was 
hard at work. On the side of the Whigs were enlisted 
the boisterous scurrility of Steele, the mature polemical 
skill of Burnet and Maynwaring; Oldmixon and Ridpath, 
with their rancorous myrmidons; and Dunton, with half 
Grub Street at his heels. On the side of the Tories ap- 
peared — with Swift towering in their van — Atterbury and 
Mrs. Manley, King and Oldesworth, Freind and Arbuthnot. 
On the l7th of November a terrible riot was expected, and 
the trained bands were called out. 

In the midst of this ferment Marlborough arrived from 
the Hague, and at once took counsel with the chiefs of the 
Opposition. It was resolved to open overtures with Not- 
tingham, who, having been passed over in all the recent 
nominations, made no secret of his enmity to Oxford. A 
bargain was soon struck. Nottingham consented to move 
a resolution against the peace. The Whigs, in return, 
agreed to support the Bill against Occasional Conformity. 
They then proceeded to secure Somerset, whose wife was 
generally understood to divide with Lady Masham the af- 
fection of the Queen. The sympathies of Anne were al- 
together with the Tories. " I hope," she said to Burnet, 
*' the Bishops will not be against the peace." " If," re- 
plied Burnet, with characteristic bluntness, " the present 
treaty with France is concluded, we shall all be ruined; in 

3* 



58 ESSAYS. 

three years your Majesty will be murdered and the fires 
will be raised again in Smithfield." The Houses were to 
assemble on the Vth of December. "On Friday next," 
wrote St. John to a friend at the Hague, " the peace will 
be attacked in Parliament. We must receive their fire, and 
rout them once for all." The anxious day arrived. The 
Queen informed the Houses in her Speech from the Throne 
that the time and place had been appointed for opening 
the treaty of a general peace, " notwithstanding," she add- 
ed, "the arts of those that delight in war." Having con- 
cluded her address she retired, laid aside the royal robes, 
and returned to the House incognita. Then Nottingham 
rose, with more than usual emotion on his harsh and gloomy 
features. He inveighed against the articles signed by Mes- 
nager, declared that hostilities ought to be carried on with 
the utmost vigor till the objects of the Grand Alliance had 
been fully attained, and concluded a long and intemperate 
harangue by moving that no peace could be safe or honor- 
able to Great Britain or Europe if Spain or the West In- 
dies were allotted to any branch of the House of Bourbon. 
He was supported by the whole strength of the Whig 
party, by Wharton and Sunderland, by Cowper and Bur- 
net. As the debate grew more acrimonious the remarks 
became more personal. At last a taunt of one of the Tory 
Speakers called up Marlborough. He had been accused, 
he said, of wishing to protract the war for his own inter- 
ests. Nothing could be falser. He desired — he had long 
desired peace, and he called that God, before whom he 
would have, in the ordinary course of nature, so shortly to 
appear, to witness the truth of what he was saying. But 
he could not, compatibly with his duty to his sovereign, to 
his country, to Europe, acquiesce in any peace which was 
not honorable and not likely to be lasting. He alluded 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. S9) 

with great pathos and dignity to liis advanced years, to the 
hardships he had undergone, and to the cruel aspersions 
which had been cast on his character and on his motives. 
It was impossible even for the Tories to listen unmoved to 
such words coming from such a man. The House was 
deeply affected, and the flush of shame was on more than 
one face when the hero of Blenheim and Ramillies resumed 
his seat. In the division which ensued the Whigs obtained 
a complete victory. It was evident, too, that the feelings 
of the Queen were changing. Oxford and St. John, Avhose 
secret negotiations with France had now fatally committed 
them, were in terrible perplexity. The crisis was, indeed, 
appalling. Swift gave up all for lost. " I," he said to Ox- 
ford, half seriously, " shall have the advantage of you, for 
you will lose your head ; I shall only be hanged, and carry 
my body entire to the grave." For some days it was be- 
lieved that the Ministry would be turned out; that the 
Queen had settled that Somers was to have the White 
Staff; that the Parliament would be dissolved, and that 
the Whigs would carry the elections. 

The storm blew over. But it became every week more 
evident that the languid and indecisive policy of Oxford, 
to which the late defeat w^as almost universally attributed, 
was not the policy which the exigencies of the time re- 
quired. The Whigs must be crushed. Their coadjutors, 
the Allies, must be silenced. The peace with France must 
at all cost be consummated. A Tory despotism must be 
established. Such had long been the course prescribed by 
St. John. Recent events had proved his wisdom, and he 
now virtually directed affairs. He rushed at once into 
every extreme, and into every extreme he hurried the 
Treasurer and the Cabinet. A series of measures which 
were without precedent in parliamentary history now fol- 



60 ESSAYS. 

lowed in rapid succession. The Tory minority in the Up- 
per House was corrected by the simultaneous creation of 
twelve peers, and, added St. John in insolent triumph, "if 
those twelve had not been enough, we would have given 
them another dozen." Then came the astounding intelli- 
gence that Marlborough had been removed from all his 
employments. On the 18th of January Walpole was in 
the Tower. On the 19th Somerset had been dismissed. 
By the middle of February the Barrier Treaty had been 
condemned, and Townshend, who had negotiated it, voted 
an enemy to his country. Meanwhile all opposition was 
quelled with summary violence. The Tory press, with 
Swift at its head, was encouraged to proceed to every 
length of libellous vituperation against the victims of min- 
isterial vengeance ; but whenever a Whig journalist pre- 
sumed to retaliate, he was at once confronted with a war- 
rant from the Secretary. At the end of the session the 
Stamp Act was passed. In the Lower House the same 
system of tyranny and intimidation was practised. Sup- 
ported by a vast majority, and without a rival in eloquence 
and energy, St. John carried everything before him. " You 
know," he wrote some years afterwards to Wyndham, " the 
nature of that assembly ; they grow like hounds fond of 
the man who shows them game, and by whose halloo they 
are wont to be encouraged," and he gave them that halloo 
as none but Jack Howe had given it them before. In- 
deed, the audacity and insolence which characterized his 
conduct at this period were long a tradition in parliament- 
ary memory. The " Journals " of the Commons still tes- 
tify how in the course of one of the debates he threatened 
a recalcitrant Whig with the Tower. 

The Whigs had now, in Oxford's phrase, been managed. 
The Allies remained, and the Allies were busier than ever 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 61 

against the peace. Swift's pamphlets had already done 
them considerable damage in popular estimation. St. John 
resolved to deal them such a blow as would effectually par- 
alyze their efforts. That blow was dealt by the Represent- 
ation, and that blow they never recovered. The Repre- 
sentation was drawn up by Hanraer under the direction of 
St. John. It was an elaborate exposure of the selfishness 
and ruinous folly of the Whigs and the Allies in continu- 
ing to prosecute the war when the objects for which the 
war had been undertaken had been long attained. It 
pointed out that the whole burden of the contest fell on 
England, the only Power which had nothing to gain by it ; 
that the Emperor and the Dutch, who reaped all the ben- 
efit, had never contributed what they had stipulated to 
contribute ; and that while in 1702 the cost of the war had 
amounted to £3,706,494, in 1 711 it had, in consequence of 
this shameful breach of contract on the part of the Allies, 
risen to £8,000,000. "We are persuaded" — so ran the 
concluding paragraph — " that your Majesty will think it 
pardonable in us to complain of the little regard which 
some of those whom your Majesty of late years trusted, 
have shown to the interests of their country in giving way 
at least to such unreasonable impositions upon it, if not in 
some measure contriving them." This was sensible, this 
was temperate, this was to the point ; and it was observed 
that after the Representation appeared many even of the 
advanced Whigs quitted the ranks of the War party. 

But whatever were the difficulties with which St. John 
had to contend in the House and in the Cabinet, the diffi- 
culties with which he had to contend in the closet were 
formidable indeed. He had to unravel every thread in 
the whole of that vast and perplexed labyrinth of interests 
which were involved in the Treaty of Utrecht. He had 



62 ESSAYS. 

to grapple — and to grapple virtually alone — with the most 
accomplished diplomatists in Europe, with an exacting and 
imperious enemy, and with a factious and malignant Op- 
position. His colleagues in France and Holland were dog- 
ged and' dilatory, his colleagues at home were timid and 
helpless. At every step he was traversed, and at every 
step new and unexpected complications arose. The clan- 
destine negotiations which had by means of Gautier and 
Mesnager been opened with France, were every day sink- 
ing the Ministry deeper and deeper in ignominy and em- 
barrassment. They liad already violated the most sacred 
ties which can bind one nation to another. They had al- 
ready, for the most ignoble of all objects, stooped to the 
most ignoble of all expedients. St. John now resolved to 
abandon the Allies to the vengeance of Louis. We can- 
not linger over those shameful transactions which preceded 
the Treaty of Utrecht. They may be read at length in 
Bolingbroke's "Political Correspondence" — an everlast- 
ing monument of his genius and of his infamy. 

In the midst of these labors Parliament was prorogued. 
St. John was anxious for a seat in the Upper House. The 
Earldom of Bolingbroke, which had for some time been 
in the possession of his family, had recently become ex- 
tinct, and he aspired to revive it. In the interests of his 
party he had already waived his claim to a peerage. His 
services had been greater than those of any other Minister 
in the Cabinet. He had borne the whole burden of the 
last session. He had all but conducted to a prosperous 
issue the negotiations with France. An earldom, however, 
the Queen would not hear of. She had promised, she said, 
a viscount}^ and a viscounty was all she would concede. 
In the middle of July, therefore, he accepted, with feelings 
of rage and mortification which he took no pains to con- 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 63 

ceal, the title of Viscount Bolingbroke and Baron St. John 
of Ledyard Tregoze. To employ his own phrase, he was 
dragged into the Upper House in a manner which made 
his promotion a punishment, not a reward. This conduct 
on the part of the Queen he always attributed to Oxford, 
whom he had long regarded with jealousy, and whom he 
now began to regard with hatred. The truth seems to be 
that Anne had conceived an aversion to him on account 
of the profligacy of his private life,* a profligacy which 
his official duties had by no means suspended, and which 
had indeed given great scandal to the more decorous of 
his colleagues. 

Meanwhile several minor details had to be settled in the 
treaty with France. Bolingbroke was irritable and moody. 
To soothe his wounded pride and to put him in a good- 
humor, it was resolved to send him on a diplomatic mis- 
sion to Paris. The incidents of that visit were long re- 
membered by him. He had no sooner left Calais than it 
became known, in spite of his precautions, that he had 
arrived on French soil. The intelligence spread like wild- 
fire. Crowds poured forth to meet him. Joyful accla- 
mations rent the air. He was the friend of a war-worn na- 
tion. He was their savior; he was the Herald of Peace. 
He could scarcely make his way through crowds so ecstat- 
ic with enthusiasm that they covered his very horses with 
kisses. In the capital his visit was one continued ovation. 
When he appeared in the streets ho was overwhelmed with 
tumultuous expressions of popular gratitude. When he 
presented himself at Court the noblesse vied with one an- 

* This is Swift's view. See his "Enquiry into the Behaviour of 
the Queen's Last Ministry ;" and see particularly the " Wentworth 
Papers," p. 395, where details are given of Boliugbroke's reckless 
debauchery at this period. 



64 ESSAYS. 

other in pressing on him their splendid hospitality. When 
he entered the theatre the whole audience rose up to re- 
ceive him. He had a satisfactory conference with Louis 
at Fontainebleau. In a few days everything had been ar- 
ranged with De Torcy. The rest of his time he devoted 
to social enjoyment. It has been asserted that he had, 
during the course of this visit, two interviews with the 
Pretender. Such a thing is, however, in spite of the as- 
surance of Azzurini, very improbable. His intrigues, at 
this time at least, were, we suspect, of another kind. His 
gallantries betrayed him indeed into a serious oflScial in- 
discretion. In truth De Torcy was not a man to observe 
such a weakness without turning it to account. He threw 
the susceptible diplomatist in the way of an accomplished 
but profligate adventuress, who robbed him of some im- 
portant documents, which were at once communicated to 
the Minister. The effects of Bolingbroke's folly soon be- 
came apparent. He arrived in England with a damaged 
reputation. It was whispered by some that he had estab- 
lished a private understanding with the French Court; by 
others, that he had turned traitor and divulged the secrets 
of the English Cabinet ; while others, again, asserted that 
he had come to terms with the Pretender. These reports, 
equally improbable and equally unfounded, were, however, 
eagerly caught at by Oxford, whose jealousy had been 
roused by his rival's reception in Paris. On this occasion 
he scarcely acted with his usual prudence. He removed 
the Foreign Correspondence out of Bolingbroke's hands, 
and placed it in the hands of Dartmouth. The conse- 
quences were easy to foresee. Affairs became more and 
more complicated. Dartmouth was as helpless as the Treas- 
urer. France became more exacting, Holland more insolent. 
A wretched squabble between the suite of Rechthcrcn, one 



THE rOLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 65 

of the Dutch deputies, and the suite of Mesnai^er, the 
French plenipotentiary, had suspended the conferences at 
Utrecht. Prior wrote from Paris complaining that he had 
"neither powers, commission, title, instructions, appoint- 
ments, money, nor secretary." The Whigs were in league 
with the Allies, and the peace threatened to come to a 
stand-still. At last the rivals began to understand their 
folly. Bolingbroke swallowed his chagrin, hurried up 
from Bucklersbury and resumed his duties at Whitehall. 
On the 31st of March, 1713, the Treaty of Utrecht was 
signed. 

The verdict which history has passed on the master- 
piece of Bolingbroke's statesmanship is well known. It 
is a verdict which no judicious biographer would, we think, 
attempt to question, which no sophistry can reverse, and 
which no future grubbing among State papers and family 
documents is ever likely to modify. That peace was ex- 
pedient and even necessary to the welfare of England;* 

* Bolingbroke's letter to Lord Eaby, dated March 6, 1711, so ad- 
mirably summarizes the reasons for peace that we will transcribe 
the principal paragraphs : 

" We are now in the tenth campaign of a war the great load of 
which has fallen on Britain as the great advantage of it is proposed 
to redound to the House of Austria and to the States-General. They 
are in interest more immediately, we more remotely concerned. How- 
ever, what by our forwardness to engage in every article of expense, 
what by our private assurances, and what by our public parliament- 
ary declarations that no peace should be made without the entire 
restitution of the Spanish monarchy, we are become principals in the 
contest ; the war is looked upon as our war, and it is treated accord- 
ingly by the confederates, even by the Imperialists, and by the 
Dutch. . . . From hence it is that our commerce has been neglected, 
while the French have engrossed the South Sea trade to themselves, 
and the Dutch encroach daily upon us both in the East Indies and 
on the coast of Africa. From hence it is that we have every year 



66 ESSAYS. 

that the Allies, who had everything to gain by the pro- 
traction of the war, were throwing the whole burden of it 
on England, who had nothing to gain ; that the actual 
union of Austria and Spain under the same sceptre would 
have been more prejudicial than the chance of such a union 
between France and Spain ; and that the difficulties in the 
way of attaining peace were almost insuperable, may, we 
think, be fairly conceded. But how did Bolingbroke solve 
the problem ? Even thus : he knew that we were bound 
by the most solemn obligations not to enter into any sep- 
arate treaty with France. He lied, equivocated,* and en- 
tered into a separate treaty. He knew that we were bound 
to defend the interests of our Allies. He leagued with the 
common enemy to defeat them. He knew that we were 
bound by every consideration of good faith and humanity 
to protect the Catalans, whose liberties we had promised 
to secure, and who in return for that promise had rendered 
us eminent services. In defiance of all his engagements 

added to our burden which was long ago greater than we could bear, 
Avhile the Dutch have yearly lessened their proportions in every part 
of the war, even in Flanders. Whilst the Emperor has never employ- 
ed twenty of his ninety thousand men against France. . . . From hence 
it is that our fleet is diminished and rotten, that our funds are mort- 
gaged for thirty-two and ninety-nine years, that our specie is exhausted 
and that we have nothing in possession and hardly anything in ex- 
pectation. . . . From hence, in one word, it is that our government is 
in a consumption, and that our vitals are consuming, and we must 
inevitably sink at once. Add to this that if we were able to bear the 
same proportion of charge some years longer, yet from the fatal con- 
sequences, should certainly miss of the great end of the war, the 
entire recovery of the Spanish monarchy from the House of Bour- 
bon." — Letters and Correspondence^ vol. i., pp. IIV-IIO. 

* His political correspondence reveals such a mass of duplicity 
and falsehood as will not be easily paralleled in the records of di- 
plomacy. 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 67 

lie abandoned them to the vengeance of Philip ; and in 
defiance of ordinary humanity he despatched a squadron 
to assist Philip in butchering them. He tnew that the 
renunciations, which he palmed off on the English people 
as valid, were worth no more than the paper on which they 
were inscribed. The honor of England was, as he was 
well aware, pledged to provide for the Dutch a substantial 
barrier against France. The barrier provided for them by 
the treaty was a mere mockery. By ceding Lille he ceded 
to Louis the key of Flanders. lie compelled Holland to 
restore Aire, Bethune, and St. Venant. He allowed France 
to retain Quesnoy, and he was, as his correspondence with 
De Torcy proves, only deterred from sacrificing Tournay 
by his fear of public opinion. Austria fared even worse. 
For the loss of Spain, the Indies, and Sicily, she was con- 
demned to satisfy herself with the kingdom of Naples, the 
Duchy of Milan, and the Spanish Netherlands ; her tenure 
of the Netherlands being indeed of such a kind as to ren- 
der it little more than nominal. With regard to the con- 
cessions exacted on behalf of England, we arc not inclined 
to take so unfavorable a view as most historians do take. 
It is true that France had been reduced to the lowest ebb. 
It is true that the concessions which she made in 1*713 
were by no means the concessions she had offered to make 
either in 1706 or in 1709. But it is no less true that in 
spite of our successes in Germany, Italy, and Flanders, our 
chances of success in Spain, which was the main object of 
the struggle, were all but hopeless. The possession of Gib- 
raltar, Minorca, Hudson's Bay, Nova Scotia, Newfound- 
land, and the French portion of St. Christopher — the 
Assiento Treaty, the demolition of Dunkirk, and Louis's 
recognition of the Act of Settlement, were assuredly no 
contemptible trophies. 



68 ESSAYS. 

The triumph of Bolingbroko was, however, very short- 
lived ; and when, on the 16th of July, Parliament was 
prorogued, it was evident that the current was running 
strongly against the Ministry. The Bill to make good the 
Commercial Treaty had been defeated; and the Commer- 
cial Treaty was the point on which Bolingbroko had espe- 
cially prided himself. The Cabinet had been charged, 
absurdly charged, with attempting to ruin the mercantile 
interests of England in favor of the mercantile interests of 
France, and had lost ground in consequence. The Malt 
Tax had thrown the Scotch members into the ranks of the 
Opposition. A scandalous attempt had been made to dis- 
solve the Union. Argyle was at open war with Oxford. 
Another schism had broken out among the Tories them- 
selves. The Cabinet was divided. There was no money 
in the Treasury. Oxford and Bolingbroko were scarcely 
on speaking terms, and everything was going wrong. All 
through the autumn this state of things continued. It 
was plain that the health of the Queen was breaking. It 
was plain that if at this conjuncture the throne became 
vacant, one of two things must happen : either the Act of 
Settlement would be carried out by the Whigs, and the 
Tories be trampled imdcr the feet of their victorious foes, 
or the Act of Settlement would be set aside by the Tories 
and a civil war convulse the country. The proper course 
for the Ministry to take was obvious. If they were strong 
enough to set aside the Act of Settlement — and, provided 
the Pretender would have made the necessary concessions, 
or even have affected to make them, there is no reason to 
suppose the Ministry would not have been strong enough 
— they should have cordially co-operated ; should have ral- 
lied their partisans; should have remodelled the army; 
should have gained the confidence of their party ; should 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 69 

have made with firmness and prudence the requisite ar- 
rangements. If, on the other hand, the Pretender persist- 
ed in his bigotry, and thus rendered it impossible to set 
aside the Act without ruin to Liberty and to the Church, 
they should at once have declared war against him ; should 
have cleared their policy of all ambiguity : should have 
vied with the AVhigs in ostentatious zeal for the Protestant 
Succession, and have cultivated in every way the good-will 
of the Elector. But the more pressing became the emer- 
gency, the more dilatory and irresolute became the Treas- 
urer. He was apparently anxious about nothing but the 
establishment of his iamWy. He could rarely be induced 
to open his lips about affairs ; and when he did so it was 
impossible to understand what he meant. He was fre- 
quently intoxicated. lie was always out of the way — 
sometimes on the plea of ill-health, sometimes on the plea 
of domestic concerns, and sometimes on no plea at all. 
Bolingbroke was furious. He attributed to him the recent 
ministerial defeat, and all the perplexities which had arisen 
since. He saw that everything was going to pieces. He 
saw that the Ministry were on the brink of ruin. He saw 
that an awful crisis was at hand ; but he could not induce 
his infatuated colleague to take one step, and without him 
he could take no decided step himself. He could only 
ingratiate himself with Lady Masham and the Duchess of 
Somerset, and that he did. 

The new year found things worse than ever. The Queen 
was apparently on the point of death, and the question of 
the succession was now agitating every mind even to mad- 
ness. The Whigs were in paroxysms of delight, and the 
Tories in a panic of perplexity. In February, however, 
she recovered, and on the 16th opened Parliament with 
an address which bore unmistakable traces of Bolin^broke's 



10 ESSAYS. 

hand. The Tories were at this moment decidedly in the 
majority both within the Houses and without; indeed 
Bolingbroke assured D'Iberville that seven-eighths of the 
people in Great Britain might be reckoned as belonging 
to that faction, and the Tories were, on the whole, averse 
to Hanover. But there was no harmony among them. 
Some were willing to accept the Pretender without exact- 
ing any securities from him. Others, again, insisted on 
such securities as the condition of their co-operation. In 
some of them an attachment to the principles of the Rev- 
olution struggled with an attachment to High-church doc- 
trines, and with an antipathy to Dissenting doctrines. 
Many of them belonged to that large, selfish, and fluctuat- 
ing class, who, with an eye merely to their own interests, 
are always ready to declare with the majority on any ques- 
tion. The Whigs, on the other hand, though numerically 
inferior, were weakened by no such divisions. Their policy 
was simple, their opinions never wavered, their feelings 
were unanimous. Their leaders were of all public men of 
that age the most resolute, the most united, and the most 
capable. 

It may assist our knowledge of the character of this 
conjuncture, and of the political profligacy of those at the 
head of affairs, to observe that Oxford, Buckingham, Leeds, 
Shrewsbury, and Bolingbroke were publicly proclaiming 
their devotion to the Elector, and at the same time secretly 
assuring the Pretender of their allegiance. Nor can Anne 
herself be altogether acquitted of similar duplicity. She 
never, it is true, gave her brother any encouragement in 
writing ; but her aversion to the Elector was well known, 
and she led both Buckingham and Oxford to infer that, 
provided James would consent to change his religion, she 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. VI 

should not scruple to follow " the bent of her own inclina- 
tions."* 

The Houses soon showed that they were in no mood for 
trifling, and Bolingbroke saw that the time had come for 
him to take, at any hazard, decisive measures. He deter- 
mined to hesitate no longer, but to seize the reins of gov- 
ernment by assuming, in opposition to Oxford, the leader- 
ship of the extreme Tories, and by undermining him not 
merely at Kensington, but at Bar le Due and at Hcrren- 
hausen. He could thus, he thought, make himself master 
of the position without at present definitely compromising 
himself either with James or the Elector. He could heal 
the schisms which were paralyzing a triumphant majority. 
He could supplant the Treasurer without alienating the 
Treasurer's adherents, and remodel the Ministry without 
weakening its constituent parts. He could thus, at the 
head of a great Tory Confederation — such was his splendid 
dream — dictate the terms on wliicli the Elector should be 
received, or set aside the Act of Settlement, and escort the 
Pretender to the throne. Nor were these designs altogeth- 
er without plausibility. He stood well with the Queen, 
whose prejudices had probably not been proof against his 
singularly fascinating manners, with Lady Masham and 
with the Duchess of Somerset. He could reckon certainly 
on the assistance of Ormond, Buckingham, Strafford, At- 
terbury, who had recently been raised to the see of Roch- 
ester, Harcourt, Bromley, Trevor, Wyndham, and the Earl 
of Mar. He had hopes of Anglesea and Abingdon ; he 

* It is, we think, quite clear that the sole obstacle in the way of 
Anne's espousing the cause of her brother lay in his refusing to 
change his religion. See particularly Macpherson's *' Original Pa- 
pers," vol. ii., pp. 504, 603 ; Berwick's " Memoirs," vol. ii., pp. 192 ; 
Lockhart's " Comment," p. 317. 



12 ESSAYS. 

had hopes of Shrewsbury, and he proceeded at once to 
make overtures to others. He continued to assure the 
Elector of his fidelit}^, and he kept up simultaneously a 
regular correspondence with the Jacobite agents D'Iberville 
and Gaultier. "When, in the House, he found it necessary 
to proclaim hostile measures against James, he at once 
privately wrote to suggest the means of evading them, or 
to insist that they were not to be received as indications 
of his own feelings. Meanwhile he did everything in his 
power to ruin Oxford. In the motion for the further se- 
curity of the Protestant succession he affected to misun- 
derstand his meaning. When the Queen was insulted by 
the demand made by Schutz, he informed her that the de- 
mand had been suggested by the Treasurer. When Ox- 
ford had nominated Paget as envoy to Hanover, Boling- 
broke sent Clarendon. In May he drew up that Bill which 
is one of the most infamous that has ever polluted our 
Legislature — the Schism Bill, with the double object of 
conciliating the extreme Tories, and of reducing his rival to 
a dilemma — the dilemma of breaking with the Moderate 
Party and the Dissenters by supporting it, or of breaking 
with the extreme Tories by opposing it. Oxford saw 
through the stratagem. Angry recriminations followed. 
Violent scenes occurred every day in the House, and in the 
Cabinet. Bolingbroke taunted Oxford with incapacity 
and faithlessness, and Oxford retorted by declaring that 
he had in his hands proofs of Bolingbroke's treachery to 
Herrenhausen. Swift, who had on other occasions inter- 
posed as mediator between his two friends, saw with con- 
cern the progress of these fatal dissensions. He hurried 
up to London, and had several interviews with the rivals. 
He implored them, in their own interests, in the interests 
of their party and in the interests of the whole Tory cause, 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 13 

to lay aside these internecine hostilities. He pointed out 
that everything depended on their mutual co-operation ; 
that their partisans, every day becoming more scattered 
and perplexed, must be united ; that they could only be 
united in the union of their leaders; that too much pre- 
cious time had already been wasted ; that if the death of 
the Queen, which might be expected at any hour, surprised 
them, they would be buried under the ruins of their party. 
All, however, was in vain, and a final interview at Lord 
Masham's convinced him that reconciliation was out of 
the question. As a parting word, he advised Oxford to 
resign, and then with a heavy heart hurried off to bury 
himself at Letcombe. Oxford and Bolingbroke now lost 
all control over themselves. Their unseemly altercations 
grew every day more violent, and became not only the jest 
and scandal of coffee-house politicians and ribald wits, but 
outraged in a manner gross beyond precedent the decorum 
of the Presence Chamber. Meanwhile everything was hur- 
rying from anarchy into dissolution. "Our situation," 
wrote Swift to Peterborough, " is so bad that our enemies 
could not without abundance of invention and ability have 
placed us so ill, if we had left it entirely to their manage- 
ment." At last these lamentable scenes drew to a close. 
On the 27th of July Oxford was removed, but the Queen 
was in a dying state. 

Bolingbroke was now virtually at the head of affairs. 
He proceeded at once with characteristic energy to grapple 
with the difficulties of his position. His immediate object 
was, we make no doubt, to amuse the Whigs and the Han- 
overians while he rallied the Tories and the Jacobites. 
With this view he entertained at dinner, on the night suc- 
ceeding Oxford's dismissal, a party of the leading Whigs, 
solemnly assuring them of his intention to promote the 

4 



•74 ESSAYS. 

Protestant Succession in the House of Ilanover. He in- 
structed Lis friend Drummond also to send Albemarle with 
assurances of a similar effect to the Elector himself. On 
the same day he had by appointment an interview with 
Gaultier, informing him that his sentiments towards James 
had undergone no change, but observing at the same time 
that James should immediately take such steps as would 
recommend him to the favor " of all good people." It may 
help to throw some light on his ultimate designs, to ob- 
serve that almost every member of his projected Ministry 
was to be chosen from the ranks of the most advanced Jac- 
obites. Bromley was to retain the Seals as Secretary of 
State ; Harcourt was to be Chancellor ; Buckingham, Pres- 
ident of the Council ; Ormond, Commander-in-chief ; Mar 
was to be Secretary of State for Scotland ; and the Privy 
Seal was to be transferred to Atterbury. For himself he 
merely proposed to hold the Seals of Secretary of State, 
with the sole management of the foreign correspondence. 
He would willingly have possessed himself of the White 
Staff, but he feared Shrewsbury, and he had the mortifica- 
tion of perceiving that even his own colleagues doubted 
his fitness for such a post. " His character is too bad," 
wrote Lewis to Swift, " to carry the great ensigns." He 
thought it prudent, therefore, to keep the Treasury in com- 
mission, with his creature Sir William W^yndham at the 
head of it. 

In the midst of these preparations alarming intelligence 
arrived from Kensington. The Queen had been stricken 
down by apoplexy. A Council was summoned to the pal- 
ace. Bolingbroke was in an agony of apprehension. He 
feared that the crash had come. He knew that Marl- 
borough was on his way to England, and that in a few 
hours the army would be awaiting his orders. lie knew 



THE POLITICAL LIFE OF BOLINGBROKE. 15 

that Stanhope had, in the van of a powerful confederation 
of Whigs, made arrangements for seizing the Tower, for 
obtaining possession of the outposts, and for proclaimino- 
the Elector. He knew that Argyle and Somerset had been 
busy, that Somers had shaken off his lethargy, and that the 
Whigs were mustering their forces in terrible strength. 
He saw that the Tories — torn with internal dissensions, 
divided in their aims, scattered, lielpless, and without lead- 
ers — must go down before the storm. But he clung des- 
perately to one hope. If Shrewsbury would declare in fa- 
vor of them, all might yet be well. Shrewsbury had been 
his ally in the great crisis of 1710. Shrewsbury had re- 
cently stood by liim in an important debate. He had not, 
it was true, committed himself to any definite expression 
of his opinions, but his bias towards the House of Stuart 
was well known.* That treacherous, fickle, and pusillani- 
mous statesman had, however, already made up his mind. 
With every desire to serve the Tories, he had satisfied him- 
self of the impossibility of rallying them in time, and had 
decided therefore to abandon them. With all his senti- 
ments in unison with those of Bolingbroke and Ormond, 
he saw that Bolingbroke and Ormond were on the losing 
side, and he had therefore concerted measures with Argyle 
and Somerset. The Council met on Friday morning, July 
30th. On Friday afternoon it became known that Shrews- 
bury had coalesced with the AVhigs, and had received the 
White Staff from the hands of his dying mistress. On 
Saturday afternoon almost every arrangement had been 

* That Bolingbroke had good reason for believing that Shrews- 
bury would support him is shown by the fact that Shrewsbury was 
not long afterwards in league with the Jacobites — " frankly engaged 
and very sanguine." For this remarkable fact see the " Stuart Pa- 
pers," under date August 20, 1715. 



76 ESSAYS. 

completed for carrying out the Act of Settlement. On 
Sunday morning Anne was no more, and Bolingbroke was 
a cipher. " The Queen died on Sunday. What a world 
is this, and how does Fortune banter us !" were the words 
in which the baffled statesman communicated the intelli- 
gence to Swift. Fortune was, however, bent on something 
more serious than banter. 

But here for the present we pause. Up to this point 
the biography of Bolingbroke has been the parliamentary 
history of England during fourteen stirring and eventful 
years. He was now about to figure on a widely different 
stage, in a widely different character. 



LORD BOLmCBROKE IN EXILE. 



SUMMARY. 



Importance of this period, p. '79-81 — Retrospect at the close of 
Bolingbroke's political career — What next? p. 81 — Bolingbroke's 
schemes, p. 82, 83 — His advances not encouraged by the Elector: 
arrival of the King in England, p. 84 — The Whigs come into power: 
their ^eelings against the late Government, p. 84-86 — Bolingbroke's 
attempt at self-justification unsuccessful, p. 85, 86 — Threatening pros- 
pects, p. 86, 81 — Bolingbroke, scared, takes to flight, p. 87, 88 — Im- 
prudence of this step, p. 89-91 — His arrival in Paris: intrigues with 
both Parties, p, 90 — His arraignment in Parliament by Walpole : con- 
siderations thereon, p. 90-92 — His indictment and condemnation as 
an outlaw, p. 93 — Character of the Pretender: reasons which guided 
Bolingbroke in espousing his cause, p. 93-98 — Bolingbroke organizes 
the Jacobite movement in Paris : disappointments and trials, p. 97-99 
— Circumstances favorable to the cause, p. 99-101 — Bolingbroke as 
a negotiator, p, 100-102 — Inauspicious events : death of Louis XIV., 
flight of Ormond, p. 102-104 — Declining prospects of the Jacobite 
cause: its collapse, p. 104, 105 — Bolingbroke's self-devotion thank- 
lessly rewarded: his dismissal by the Chevalier, p. 106-108 — Satis- 
faction at the Court of St. James, p. 108 — Bolingbroke kept in ex- 
pectanc}', p. 109 — His retirement and private studies, p. 109-114 — 
Connection with the Marquise do Villette and subsequent marriage, 
p. 113, 114 — Literary pursuits, p. 114-117 — Friendship with Voltaire, 
p. 117-121 — His desire to return to England repeatedly thwarted: 
at last acceded to, p. 121 — Bolingbroke's overtures to Walpole and 
Carteret, p. 121-124 — His offer of intercession at the French Court 
declined by Walpole, p. 125, 126 — ^Valpole averse to restore him to 
his civil rights: at last forced to do so by the King, p. 125-127 — 
Bolingbroke's double life, p. 128. 



LORD BOLTNGBROKE IN EXILE. 

We now propose to trace the fortunes of Bolingbroke 
from an event which speedily, indeed, reduced him to in- 
significance as a statesman, but which marked the com- 
mencement of what is, beyond question, the most interest- 
ing and instructive portion of his personal history. From 
1690 to llOi his career differs little from that of other 
clever and dissolute youths with indulgent relatives and 
with good expectations. From 1704 to 1714 it is, if we 
except the short interval of his retirement, that of a thriv- 
ing and busy politician, whose life is too essentially bound 
up with contemporary history to present those features of 
individual interest which are the charm of biography. But 
from 1714 to 1752 it assumes an entirely new character. 
During this period he passed, in rapid succession, through 
a series of vicissitudes which it would be difficult to par- 
allel even in fiction. During this period he played innu- 
merable parts. He became identified with almost every 
movement of the public mind in Europe, with political 
opinion, with polite letters, with the speculations of science, 
with the progress of free-thought, with historical and met- 
aphysical discussion. He became the teacher of men 
whose genius has shed lustre on the literature of two na- 
tions, and with whose names his own is imperishably asso- 
ciated. He produced writings which are, it is true, too 
unsound, too immature, and too fragmentary to hold a 
high place in didactic philosophy, but which were of great 



80 ESSAYS. 

service in stimulating inquiry, and which arc, regarded as 
compositions, second to none in our language. From 1726 
to 1742 the influence lie exercised on English politics was 
such as it is scarcely possible to overestimate. lie was 
the soul of the most powerful Coalition which ever gath- 
ered on the Opposition benches. He kept the country in 
a constant ferment. He inaugurated a new era in the an- 
nals of Party. He made Jacobitism contemptible. He 
reconstructed the Tory creed. Of the Patriots he was at 
once the founder and dictator. To his energy and skill is, 
in a large measure, to be attributed that tremendous revo- 
lution which drove Walpole from office, and changed the 
face of political history. And yet this is the period of 
his life of which his biographers have least to say. AVith 
them he ceases to be important when he ceases to be con- 
spicuous. They do not perceive that the part he played 
was exactly the part which Thucydides tells us was played 
by Antiphon in the great drama of b.c. 411 — the part of 
one who, unseen himself, directs everything. Of his liter- 
ary achievements their account is, if possible, still more 
vague and meagre. Indeed, Mr. Cooke and Mr. Macknight 
appear to have no conception of the nature and extent of 
his influence on the intellectual activity of his age. They 
have not even discussed his relations with Pope and Vol- 
taire. They have not even furnished us with a critical 
analysis of his principal works; and what they have omit- 
ted to do no one has done since. We shall therefore make 
no apology for entering with some minuteness into the 
particulars of this portion of his life. It divides itself nat- 
urally into three periods. The first extends from his fall, 
in 1714, to his reappearance in England in 1723 ; the sec- 
ond extends from 1723 to his departure for the Continent 
in 1735 ; and the third is terminated by his death in 1752. 



( 



LORD BOLINGBROKE IN EXILE. 81 

On the death of Anne it became at once apparent that 
any attempt to set aside the Act of Settlement would be 
vain. Atterbury, indeed, importuned Bolingbroke to ap- 
peal to the nation, and to declare open war with Hanover. 
He offered, himself, to lead the forlorn hope. He was 
willing, he said, to head a procession to Charing Cross, 
and to proclaim, in full canonicals, the accession of James 
HI. But his proposal found little favor. Bolingbroke 
saw that all was over, and that for the present, at least, 
things must take their natural course. It must, in truth, 
have been obvious to a man of far less discernment than 
he that the position of the Hanoverians was impregnable. 
Their leaders were united, their arrangements had been 
judicious. They were in possession of all the means which 
command dominion — of the fleet, of the army, of the gar- 
risoned towns, of the Tower. The recent divisions in the 
Cabinet, the unpopularity of the Commercial Treaty, and 
the sudden death of the Queen, had confounded the To- 
ries. Their only chance was to outbid the Whigs in loyal 
zeal for Hanover, to purify themselves from all taint of 
Jacobitism, and to leave the few desperate fanatics who 
still held out for James to their fate. Such was clearly 
their policy, and such was the course that Bolingbroke 
now prepared to take. That it was his original intention 
to set aside the Act of Settlement it would, in spite of his 
repeated assurances to the contrary, be absurd to doubt. 
It would be equally absurd to suppose that he had, so far 
as conscience or feeling was concerned, any bias in favor 
either of Hanover or St. Germains. He was as destitute 
of sentiment as he was destitute of principle. From the 
moment he entered public life his interests had centred 
and ended in himself. To crush Marlborough and to sup- 
plant Oxford he had found it expedient to ally himself 
4* 



82 ESSAYS. 

with the extreme Tories. In allying himself with that 
faction it had become necessary to identify himself with 
the Jacobites. But he knew his danger. He had tried 
hard to stand well with George as well as with James. 
He had regularly corresponded with both of them. He 
had sworn allegiance to both of them. The exigencies of 
his struggle with Oxford had, however, necessitated a de- 
cided course, and at the beginning of 1714 he was fatally 
compromised. He saw that the Whigs had then succeed- 
ed in making the succession a party question. He saw 
that if the Elector ascended the throne, he would ascend 
it as the head of the Whig faction ; and that if the Tories 
were to maintain the supremacy, they must maintain it 
under a Tory king. He saw that the Elector regarded 
him with suspicion and dislike. He saw that the return 
of the Whigs to power would in all likelihood consign 
him at once to impotence and ignominy. He was therefore 
bound by all considerations of self-interest to attach himself 
to James, and of his intrigues in favor of James we have am- 
ple proofs. Circumstances had, however, gone against him, 
and it was now necessary to retrace his steps. Though his 
prospects were far from promising, they were not hopeless. 
If he could not transform himself into a Whig, he could 
at least abandon the Jacobites and figure as a zealous Han- 
overian. It was just possible that the new king might 
adopt the policy of William, and consent to a coalition. 
The Tories were, after all, a formidable body, and there 
was little likelihood of repose in any government in which 
the land interest and the Church were not powerfully rep- 
resented. Of these representatives he was the acknowl- 
edged leader. The Elector was notoriously a man of 
peace, and averse to extreme measures. He had undoubt- 
edly flung himself upon the Whigs, but it had been from 



LORD BOLINGBROKE IN EXILE. 83 

motives of policy. Such, if we may judge from his cor- 
respondence, were Bolingbroke's reflections as he watched 
from his window in Golden Square the flare of the bon- 
fires in which his eflSo^v was cracklins^. 

He lost no time in expressing in abject terms his devo- 
tion to his new master. " Quoique jo crains d'etre im- 
portun" — so ran his letter — "je nc saurois me dispenser 
plus long-terns ct de suivre mon inclination et de m.'acquit- 
ter de mon devoir." He enlarged on the fidelity with 
which he had served Anne, cong;ratulated himself on beino- 
the servant of so great a prince as her successor, and con- 
cluded by observing that in whatever station he might be 
employed he could at least promise integrity, diligence, and 
loyalty. During the next three weeks there was much to 
encourage liira. The Council of Regency had, it is true, 
submitted him to the indignity of being superseded by 
their secretary. But Clarendon's despatches from Hanover 
were favorable. Goertz, one of the Elector's confidential 
advisers, was openly enlisted in the Tory cause. There 
were already signs of disunion in the Ministry, and Halifax 
had even suggested that Bromley should be Chancellor of 
the Exchequer, and Hanraer one of the Tellers. It was 
confidently rumored that the King, so far from having de- 
cided to crush the Tories, was even hesitating as to which 
of the two factions should be preferred to honor. This 
report emanated, we suspect, from Bothmar. That wily 
diplomatist had seen all along the expediency of amusing 
the Tories till the arrival of George should settle the king- 
dom. The general tranquillity of affairs had by no means 
tlirown him off his guard. He was too well acquainted 
with the history of revolutions not to know that the first 
thing generated by them is ambition, and that the last 
things changed by them are principles. 



84 ESSAYS. 

It was now late in August, and Bolingbroke was await- 
ing with some anxiety a reply to his letter. The answer 
arrived on the twenty-eighth, in the form of an express, 
addressed not to himself but to the Council of Regency. 
He was summarily dismissed from his post of Secretary of 
State ; his office was to be put under lock and key ; his 
papers were to be seized and sealed up. This disagreeable 
intelligence he affected to receive with indifference. It 
shocked him, he says — for at least two minutes ; " but," 
he added, " the grief of my soul is this — I see plainly that 
the Tory party is gone." * 

On the evening of the 18th of September, the King 
landed at Greenwich, and Bolingbroke hurried up from 
Bucklersbury to offer his congratulations. His worst fears 
were soon verified. The Tories had learned, indeed, some 
days before that they were to be excluded from all share 
in the Government, but they had not yet learned that they 
were to be excluded from all share in the royal favor. 
They were at once undeceived. Their leaders were treated 
with contempt. Ormond and Harcourt failed to extort 
even a glance of recognition ; Oxford was openly insulted ; 
Bolingbroke was not permitted to present himself. This 
was the signal which had been long expected. For some 
weeks the struggle between the two great factions had 
been suspended. A great victory had been won, but the 
ultimate issue of that victory depended upon the attitude 
of the new sovereign. The prostrate Tories trusted to his 
moderation, for protection ; the Whigs to his gratitude, for 
revenge. Till he declared himself, the combatants could 
only stand glaring at one another. Between the death 
of Anne and his reception at Greenwich, George's policy 

* Letter to Atterbury, Macpherson's " Original Papers," vol. ii., 
p. 651. 



LORD BOLINGBROKE IN EXILE. 85 

had been studiously concealed; his Ministers had been 
feeding both parties with hopes, and the majority of men 
had been deceived. Now, however, all was clear. His pre- 
tended neutrality had been a mere trick to effect a peace- 
able entrance. He had come, not as a mediator but as a 
partisan ; not as the guardian of the common interests of 
his people, but as the leader of an insolent and vindictive 
faction. In less than a month the three kingdoms were 
again on fire with civil fury. The Whigs, eager to in- 
demnify themselves for long oppression, were bent on noth- 
ing less than the utter destruction of their rivals. The 
Tories, fighting against fearful odds, were driven in despair 
to take a course which, for forty-five years, reduced them 
to impotence in the Senate, and which brought many of 
them to the scaffold. 

On the I7th of March the Houses met, and Bolingbroke 
appeared as leader of the Opposition. The King's Speech, 
which was read by Cowper, was judicious and temperate. 
With the Addresses in answer the war began. The Op- 
position took their stand on a clause in which the House 
had expressed their hope that his Majesty would recover 
the reputation of the kingdom. This the Tories very prop- 
erly interpreted as a reflection on the conduct of their 
chiefs. A warm debate ensued, and Bolingbroke rose for 
the last time to address that assembly which had so often 
listened to him with mingled aversion and pleasure. His 
speech was an elaborate defence of his foreign and domes- 
tic policy. He paid a pathetic tribute to the memory of 
the late Queen, and he addressed a still more pathetic ap- 
peal to the wisdom, equity, and moderation of the reign- 
ing sovereign. He was willing to be punished if he had 
done amiss, but he thought it hard to be condemned un- 
heard. He then proceeded to deal in detail with the trans- 



86 ESSAYS. 

actions in which he was so deeply concerned, and he con- 
chided a long and masterly harangue by moving that the 
word " maintain " should be substituted for the word " re- 
cover." He was supported by the Earl of Strafford and 
the Duke of Shrewsbury. But all his efforts were vain. 
The motion was rejected by an overwhelming majority. 
In the Lower House the late Government fared even worse. 
There Walpole openly charged them with being in league 
with James, and stated that it was his intention and the 
intention of his colleagues to bring them to justice. What 
Walpole announced was repeated with still more emphasis 
and acrimony by Stanhope. Endeavors had, he said, been 
made to prevent a discovery of the late mismanagement, 
by conveying away several papers from the Secretaries' 
offices; but there still remained ample evidence against 
them, evidence which would not only prove their corrup- 
tion, but place it beyond doubt that far more serious 
charges could be established. 

Bolingbroke now saw that the storm was gatliering fast. 
His private secretary had indeed succeeded in defeating 
the vigilance of the Government, by concealing such papers 
as might be prejudicial. Almost all those witnesses who 
could conclusively prove his treason were either out of 
reach or above temptation to treachery. Azzurini was in 
the Bastile, Gautier had retired to France, D'Iberville was 
protected by his diplomatic character, De Torcy was the 
soul of honor. But there was one man whom Boling- 
broke had for many years loved and trusted as a brother, 
who had been his companion in business and pleasure, who 
had shared all his secrets. That man was Prior. Prior 
had recently arrived from France. The emissaries of Stan- 
hope and Walpole had been busy with him, and Boling- 
brokc heard with terror and astonishment that his old friend 



LORD BOLINGBROKE IN EXILE. 87 

had promised to reveal everything. This report, for which, 
as it afterwards turned out, there was not the slightest 
foundation, had the more weight because it appeared to 
confirm what had reached him from another quarter. lie 
had been informed that the Whigs had engaged to bring 
him to the scaffold, that they had entered into an alliance 
of which his blood was to be the cement, and that all at- 
tempts to defend himself would be vain, for sentence had 
virtually been passed. There is reason to believe that this 
alarming intelligence was, under the guise of friendship, 
conveyed to him by Marlborough, and that it was part of 
an ingenious manoeuvre suggested by AValpole and Stan- 
hope to induce him to leave the country — a step which 
would enable them to proceed against him by Act of At- 
tainder, and to accomplish without difficulty his destruc- 
tion. The stratagem succeeded. 

On Saturday, the 26th of March, it was reported in Lon- 
don that Bolingbroke had fled. The report was at first 
received with contemptuous incredulity. He had been 
seen by hundreds the night before in his usual high spirits 
at Drury Lane, where he had, ffom his box, complimented 
the actors and bespoken a play for the next evening. He 
had repeatedly assured his friends — and his friends were 
to be found in every coffee-house in the town — that he 
was under no apprehensions of what his enemies might 
do. He was only anxious for an opportunity to clear him- 
self, and that opportunity would, he said, be provided by 
the Parliamentary inquiry then pending. In a few days 
all was known. The greatest excitement prevailed in po- 
litical circles, and this excitement was shortly afterwards 
increased by the intelligence that a man who had assisted 
in effecting the escape of the fallen Minister was in custo- 
dy. The man's name was Morgan, and he held a commis- 



88 ESSAYS. 

sion in the Marines. In the course of his examination 
before the Privy Council he stated that he had met Bol- 
ingbroke, disguised as a French courier, and travelling as 
the servant of a king's messenger, named La Vigne, at 
Dover; that he had at one time been under obligation to 
him, and that when Bolingbroke revealed himself and 
begged for a passage to Calais, he had not had the heart 
to refuse him. This statement had been already supple- 
mented by communications from Bolingbroke himself. He 
had written to Lord Lansdowne and he had written to his 
father. The letter to Lansdowne was published. It was 
dated from Dover. He had left England, he said, not be- 
cause he was conscious of any guilt, not because he shrank 
from any investigation, but because his foes had resolved 
to shed his blood. And he challenged the most inveter- 
ate of those foes to produce a single instance of criminal 
correspondence on his part, or a single proof of corrup- 
tion. Had there been the least hope of obtaining a fair 
trial he should have stood his ground; but he had been 
prejudged. His comfort in misfortune would be the mem- 
ory of the great services he' had done his country, and the 
reflection that his only crime consisted in being too patri- 
otic to sacrifice her interests to foreign allies. This letter 
was not considered even by his friends as a very satisfac- 
tory explanation of the step he had taken. Several harsh 
comments were made on it, and his conduct was generally 
regarded as reflecting little credit either on his judgment 
or his courage. 

His flight was, in truth, the greatest blunder of his life 
— a blunder which it is scarcely credible that any one pos- 
sessing a particle of his sagacity and experience could ever 
liave committed. A moment's calm reflection might have 
shown him that any attempt on the part of his enemies to 



LORD BOLINGBROKE IN EXILE. 89 

bring him to the block would be futile. Whatever may 
have been the measure of his moral guilt in the negotia- 
tions with France, there had been nothing to support a 
capital charge. Whatever had been most reprehensible 
in his conduct had been sanctioned by the Queen, had 
been sanctioned by two Parliaments. In the intrigues with 
James several of the leading Whigs had been as deeply 
involved as himself, and of his own intrigues it would, even 
if Prior had turned traitor, have been very difficult to ob- 
tain corroborative evidence. The temper of the nation 
was such as to make extreme measures eminently impoli- 
tic. There was not an observant statesman in England 
who did not perceive that affairs were on the razor's edge. 
The King had already made many enemies. The Govern- 
ment was becoming every day more unpopular, the Oppo- 
sition more powerful. The Tories were beginning to rally. 
The schisms which had at the end of the last reigp divided 
them showed symptoms of healing. A reaction was to all 
appearance merely a matter of time. That reaction could 
scarcely fail to be hastened by the impeachment of a Min- 
ister so representative and so popular as himself. By 
awaiting his trial he would, therefore, have run compara- 
tively little risk. By his flight he ruined everything. 
Bolingbroke has, however, seldom the magnanimity to ac- 
knowledge himself in error ; and to the end of his life he 
continued, both in his writings and in his conversation, to 
defend this suicidal step. The account which he after 
wards gave of it is a curious instance of his disingenuous- 
ness. He left England, as his letter to Lord Lansdowne 
proves, in panic terror, to save himself from the scaffold. 
He left England, according to his subsequent statement, 
after mature deliberation, not to save himself from the 
scaffold, not because he was afraid of his enemies, but to 



90 ESSAYS. 

avoid the humiliation of being beholden to the Whimsi- 
cal s for protection, and to embarrass Oxford. 

On his arrival at Paris he immediately pnt himself into 
communication with Lord Stair, the English Ambassador. 
He solemnly promised to have no dealings with the Jaco- 
bites, and these promises he reiterated in a letter to Stan- 
hope. Within a few hours he was closeted with Berwick, 
assuring him of his sympathy, assuring him that all was 
going well for James in England, but adding that, for the 
present at least, he must refrain from any public co-oper- 
ation with the Jacobites.* Having thus, by a piece of 
double duplicity, established relations with both parties, 
and provided for either alternative, he proceeded to Dau- 
phine to watch the course of events. 

Meanwhile his enemies in England had not been idle. 
Prior had been arrested. The papers relating to the ne- 
gotiations with France had been called for and produced. 
A secret committee had been appointed to collect and ar- 
range evidence. The most unscrupulous means had been 
resorted to to make that evidence complete. Private cor- 
respondence liad been seized and scrutinized. The escri- 
toires of the late Queen had been ransacked, and such was 
the malignant industry of this inquisition that in six weeks 
the evidence accumulated by them amounted to no less 
than twelve stout volumes. An abstract of this evidence 
was drawn up by Walpole with great ability in the form 
of a Report. On the 2d of June he informed the House 
that the Committee were in a position to communicate the 
result of their inquiries, and the day fixed for the commu- 
nication was that day week. The news of these proceed- 
ings had for several weeks kept the two factions in a state 
bordering on frenzy. The Whigs were eager to enhance 
* " Memoirs of the Duke of Berwick," vol ii., p. 198. 



LORD BOLINGBROKE IN EXILE. 91 

the glory of their recent triumph by the meaner satisfac- 
tion of being able to trample on a fallen foe. The treach- 
ery of Bolingbroke and Oxford would now, they said, be 
incontrovertibly established. They would be punished as 
they deserved. The Tories, on the other hand — though 
Bolingbroke's flight had been a great shock to them — pro- 
fessed to anticipate very different results. They had no 
fear at all, they answered, of any such investigation, pro- 
vided only it were properly conducted ; they would never 
believe that their leaders had been guilty either of treason 
or misdemeanor. The Whigs, therefore, took their stand 
by Walpole and Stanhope ; the Tories, with the exception 
of the Whimsicals, identified themselves with the cause of 
Bolingbroke and Oxford. 

The important day arrived. The House was densely 
crowded. Walpole announced, amid a breathless silence, 
that before producing his Report he had a motion to pro- 
pose, lie must request the Speaker to issue warrants for 
the apprehension of several persons. Upon that the lobby 
was cleared, the doors were locked, and the keys laid upon 
the table. The persons named by him were at once arrested, 
and among them were Thomas Harley and Matthew Prior. 
With these alarming preliminaries he proceeded to deliver 
his Report. The ceremony occupied many hours; when 
the House adjourned it was not concluded, and it was late 
in the afternoon of the following day before the last folio 
was read. The Whigs had triumphed. The Tories saw 
that defence was hopeless. The charge of Jacobitism had 
not, indeed, been satisfactorily established, and it was open 
to doubt whether anything had been brought forward 
which was technically sufficient to support a charge of 
high-treason. But of the moral guilt of the two Ministers 
there could be no doubt. Tlioy had sullied the national 



92 ESSAYS. 

honor, they had set at naught the most sacred ties which 
can bind nations together, they had sacrificed to party con- 
siderations the common interests of their country, they had 
had recourse to the most dishonorable subterfuges. The 
desertion of the Dutch, for example in the negotiations 
with France, and the suspension of arms in the spring of 
1712, are two of the most scandalous incidents in the an- 
nals of diplomacy. A skilful advocate might undoubtedly 
have shown that these misdemeanors, grave though they 
were, had been accompanied with extenuating circum- 
stances. He could have been at no loss to prove that the 
termination of hostilities with France was not only expedi- 
ent but necessary, and he might have reasoned that if the 
means employed had been reprehensible, if the terms ac- 
cepted had been inadequate, the blame lay with the vexa- 
tious opposition of the Whigs and the Allies. He would 
not, we think, have had much diflSculty in refuting such 
evidence as the prosecution had then been able to obtain 
touching the intrigues with James. He could have pro- 
tested, and have protested with justice, against the sophis- 
try to which Walpole had resorted in his endeavors to 
heighten the minor charge of high crimes and misdemean- 
ors into the most serious charge which the law knows. 
On this point the Whigs undoubtedly went too far. The 
moral delinquency of Oxford and Bolingbroke can scarcely 
be exaggerated, but there had been nothing in their con- 
duct to warrant a charge of high-treason. The evidence 
on which the Whigs succeeded in establishing their case is 
well known. It was proved that in the negotiations with 
De Torcy, Bolingbroke had endeavored to procure for 
France the city of Tournay. The possession of Tournay 
was for the advantage of the French, with whom we were 
at that time in open hostility. The attempt was, therefore, 



LORD BOLINGBROKE IN EXILE. 93 

interpreted as an adherence to the Queen's enemies, and 
adherence to the enemies of the Crown had, by a Statute 
of Edward III., been pronounced high-treason. The an- 
swer to this was obvious. Tournay, as a matter of fact, 
had not been surrendered. Had the place been actually 
abandoned the sacrifice would have done no injury to Eng- 
land, for Tournay did not belong to her. The proposal, 
moreover, had been made not with a view to benefit the 
French, but with a view to benefit the English. The 
Queen herself had been a party to the proposal, and when 
there seemed probability of disapprobation the project had 
been abandoned. But the temper of the House was such 
that none of the partisans of the late Ministers had the 
courage to undertake their defence. Hanmer, indeed, rose 
to move that further consideration of the Report should 
be deferred till the members had been served with copies. 
To this Walpole and Stanhope declined to accede. Wal- 
pole then rose and impeached Bolingbroke of high-trea- 
son. On the 6th of the following month Walpole pre- 
sented himself at the bar of the Upper House. On the 
14th of September Bolingbroke was an attainted outlaw. 
We have little doubt that had he remained in England 
this terrible sentence would never have been passed. Many 
of the Whigs had, we now know, serious misgivings about 
its justice. Some had even refused to sanction it. The 
wise and moderate Soraers had expressed his dissent in 
the most emphatic terms, and had even gone so far as to 
compare the vindictive proceedings of Walpole and Stan- 
hope to the proscriptions of Marius and Sulla. But the 
minds of the most scrupulous were soon to be set at rest. 
Before the measure had passed into law it had unhappily 
received its justification. 

We have now arrived at a period in Bolingbroke's life 



■94 ESSAYS. 

of which he has himself left us an elaborate account. In 
the Letter to Sir William Wyndham he narrates the cir- 
cumstances under which he attached himself to the inter- 
ests of the Pretender, and he professes to lay bare without 
reserve the motives which induced him to take this unfort- 
unate step. That his narrative of the events of 1715 is 
substantially correct we have not the smallest doubt. His 
principal object in penning it was to cover James and his 
projects with ridicule, and to show the Tories that an alli- 
ance with the Jacobites meant nothing less than alliance 
with disgrace and ruin. This object was, as he well knew, 
best attained by stating simple truth. There was no ne- 
cessity for fiction ; there was no necessity for over-color- 
ing. Everything that the art of the satirist could do to 
render the character of James contemptible Nature had 
actually done. To exaggerate his incapacity was superflu- 
ous, for his conduct had been in itself the quintessence of 
folly. To make his Cabinet the laughing-stock of Europe, 
all that was needed was to preserve with exact fidelity its 
distinctive features, for those features presented in them- 
selves everything that the most malignant caricaturist 
could desire. The whole drama of 1715 was in truth 
such a ludicrous exhibition of recklessness and misman- 
agement as to be almost without parallel in history. There 
is, however, one portion of this narrative in which we are 
not inclined to place much confidence. Bolingbroke in- 
forms us that he allied himself with the Jacobites, not 
from motives of self-interest, but from the loftiest and pur- 
est motives which can animate a man of honor. Till his 
departure from England he was the acknowledged leader 
of the Tory party. To that party he was, he said, bound 
by every tie, both of sentiment and principle. Since his 
exile those ties had been drawn closer. The Tories liad 



LORD BOLINGBROKE IN EXILE. 95 

been submitted to a grinding despotism. They had been 
excluded from all share in the favor of the new king. In 
Parliament they had been reduced to political impotence. 
Principles for which they would gladly have shed their 
blood were trampled under the feet of savage and vindic- 
tive foes. Their very lives were at the mercy of syco- 
phants and informers. The very existence of Toryism 
was at stake. At last, partly owing to the conviction that 
the only remedy for their misfortunes lay in a change of 
dynasty, partly owing to continued persecution, and partly 
moved by resentment at the measures which had doomed 
their chiefs to the fate of traitors, they had thrown them- 
selves into the arras of the Pretender. In this extremity 
they appealed to their banished leader, and he responded 
to their call. He anticipated failure, but he had, he said, 
no choice. As the servant of the Tories he was therefore 
forced to cast in his lot with the Jacobites, and as the serv- 
ant of the Tories he accepted the seals from James. 

Now nothing is more certain than that Bolingbroke had 
made overtures to Berwick several weeks before any ap- 
peal had been made to him from England at Commercy. 
Nay, nothing is more certain than that from the October 
of 1712 he had, in his communications with D'Iberville 
and Gautier, repeatedly declared himself in favor of the 
Pretender. He had accepted the seals at least six weeks 
before the Bill of Attainder had been passed — a fact 
which he always denied, but which is now placed beyond 
doubt by the date of his first letter to James, preserved in 
the Stuart Papers. That many of the Tories who, previ- 
ous to the coronation of George, held no communication 
with the Jacobites, had, by the violence of the AVhigs, 
been driven to open communications with them is unques- 
tionably true; but that Bolingbroke should have believed 



96 ESSAYS. 

for one instant that the majority of the Tories would have 
consented to set a Papist on the throne is ludicrous. And 
that there was little likelihood of the Pretender changing, 
or even affecting to change his religion, he has himself ad- 
mitted. 

The appeal made to him emanated, as he well knew, 
from a small knot of men as desperate as himself. x\nd 
the simple truth is, that in taking this step he was guided, 
as he always was guided, by purely personal considerations. 
In England the game had been played out. The Tories 
were too feeble to become his tools, and the Whigs too 
^Yise to become his dupes. His only hope lay in mis- 
chievous activity and in the chances of fortune. lie clung 
to the cause of James, not as an honest zealot clings to a 
principle, but as desperate adventurers clutch at opportu- 
nity. 

His first interview with his new master was not encour- 
aging. "He talked," says Bolingbroke, "like a man who 
expected every moment to set out for England or Scot- 
land, but who did not very well know which." Of the 
state of his affairs the Chevalier gave, indeed, a very glow- 
ing account ; though it appeared on investigation that he 
had arrived at his satisfactory conclusions by a somewhat 
unsatisfactory process. In other words, he had invented 
much, assumed more, and colored everything. For the fur- 
therance of his designs it was soon obvious that, in spite 
of all his blustering, he had done nothing. He assured 
Bolingbroke, however, that everything was in readiness, 
and he was, he said, convinced that in a few weeks he 
should be on the throne of his ancestors. Bolingbroke 
consented to accept the seals, which at the conclusion of 
the interview were pressed on him, but he left his new 
master with no very exalted ideas either of his character 



LORD BOLINGBROKE IN EXILE. 97 

or of his capacity. Indeed, be afterwards assured Wynd- 
ham that he had already begun to repent of the step he 
had taken, almost as soon as he had taken it. His pene- 
trating eye had probably discerned in the young prince 
the germs of those odious qualities which had, in the per- 
son of the Second James, made the name of Stuart a syn- 
onyme for folly, and in the person of the Second Charles a 
synonyme for ingratitude. In a few hours he received his 
instructions. He was to proceed to Paris, which was to 
be the basis of operations. He was to put himself at the 
head of the Jacobite party. He was to open communica- 
tions with the .United Kingdom, and to lose no time in so- 
liciting the assistance of Louis. 

Bolingbroke arrived in Paris at the end of July. He 
was anxious to meet his coadjutors, and orders were at 
once issued for the Jacobite Ministry to meet. His inter- 
view w ith James had been a shock, but when his eyes rested 
on the spectacle which now presented itself, his heart sank 
within him. He saw before him a sordid rabble of both 
sexes. They appeared to have no bond of union, but had 
gathered in knots, and in a few minutes he was enabled to 
discover that they represented the scum of four nations. 
Their hopes were high, their voices were loud ; their air 
and gestures indicated boundless self-importance. Those 
who could read and write had papers in their hands, and 
those who could neither read nor write were contenting 
themselves with looking mysterious. On analyzing this 
assembly into its constituent parts, he perceived that it con- 
sisted of hot-headed Irish vagrants, largely recruited from 
the least reputable sections of Parisian society ; of a few 
Englishmen who had been glad to put the Channel between 
themselves and their infuriated creditors ; and of several 
women whose characters were more obvious than respect- 

5 



98 ESSAYS. 

able. To these had been added a small body of Scotch 
adventurers, desperate from poverty and mad with fanati- 
cism. As each of these politicians recognized no leader 
but James, each, in the absence of James, had proceeded 
on the principle of doing what was right in his own eyes. 
Each regarded his neighbor, not in the light of an ally, but 
in the light of a rival ; and as nobody had looked beyond 
himself, nobody had advanced one step towards the attain- 
ment of what could only be attained by mutual co-opera- 
tion. The temper of such assemblies has been the same 
in all ages. The only counsellors in whom they have any 
confidence are those who flatter their hopes ; the only coun- 
sellors to whom they refuse to listen are those who would 
teach them how those hopes may be realized. Everything 
is seen bv them throu2-h a false medium. Their ima^-ina- 
tion is the dupe of their vanity. Their reason is perverted 
by their passions. As their distinguishing features are ig- 
norance and credulity, they are, of all bodies of men, the 
most impracticable ; for the first renders them incapable of 
discerning their true interests, and the second keeps them 
in a state of perpetual agitation. Never were these pecul- 
iarities more strikingly illustrated than by the crowd which 
now surrounded Bolingbroke. The public discontent in 
England was multiplied a thousand-fold. Every riot was a 
rebellion. Every street brawl portended revolution. Scot- 
land and Ireland were on the point of rising, The Whig 
Cabinet had collapsed. The army had mutinied. Nothing 
was more certain than that in a few weeks James would be 
at Whitehall, and George in exile. Letters and despatches, 
which had in truth emanated from men of the same charac- 
ter as those with whom they corresponded, were produced 
to prove the truth of this rhodomontade. It was useless to 
reason with these fanatics. It was useless to point out to 



LOED BOLINGBROKE IN EXILE. 99 

them that the battle had yet to be fought, and that, if vic- 
tory came, it would not come spontaneously, but as the 
prize of valor and prudence. 

Bolingbroke no^y clearly saw that to have any chance of 
success he must stand alone. He could rely on no assist- 
ance from his master, he could expect nothing but embar- 
rassment from his colleagues in Paris. He proceeded at 
once to grapple with the difficulties of his position, and he 
grappled with them as few men have ever grappled with dif- 
ficulties so arduous and complicated. At this moment the 
prospects of the Jacobites were not unpromising. Among 
the States of Europe there was scarcely one which regarded 
the accession of the House of Hanover with favor. Louis 
Xiy. took no pains to conceal the fact that nothing but 
national exhaustion, occasioned by recent disaster, pre- 
vented him from openly re-espousing the cause of James. 
The sympathies of Spain were entirely on the side of Jac- 
obitism. The policy of Portugal was to stand well with 
France. The Emperor, incensed at the provisions of the 
Peace of Utrecht, kept sullenly aloof from both parties, 
but it was generally understood that he viewed the eleva- 
tion of the Elector with feelings of suspicion and jealousy. 
Indeed, the only Powers which could be described as in 
any way attached to George were Holland and Prussia. Of 
these Holland was too deeply involved in financial embar- 
rassment to be of much service, and Prussia was not in a 
condition to do more than contribute a few troops for the 
preservation of Hanover. In Scotland the discontent was 
deep-seated and general. In Ireland the prospect of James's 
accession was hailed with joy. In England, though affairs 
had by no means advanced so far as the Jacobite agents 
represented, there was ample ground for hope. Berwick 
indeed asserts that of the body of the people five out of 



100 ESSAYS. 

six were for James ; not, he adds, because of his incontesta- 
ble right, but from hatred to the House of Hanover, and 
to prevent the total ruin of the Church and of popular 
liberty.* 

These advantages were, however, of a negative character ; 
the task before Bolingbroke was to discover in what way 
they might be turned to the best account. The ground 
was cleared ; the material lay ready ; but the edifice had 
yet to be raised. His proper course was easy to discern. 
He must unite the scattered forces of his party by cstab- 
lishino- a regular communication between them. He must 
make the Jacobites, who lay dispersed through France, 
through England, through Scotland, through Ireland, act 
in unison. When they rose they must rise not in detach- 
ments and at intervals, but simultaneously, under the com- 
mand of competent officers. He must obtain assistance 
from France, for without that assistance no manoeuvre could 
be effectual. He must endeavor by dint of skilful diplo- 
macy to secure the co-operation of Spain and Sweden. 

To these difficult duties he devoted himself with admi- 
rable skill and temper. Never, indeed, were his eminent 
abilities seen to greater advantage. In a few weeks he 
had not only induced Louis to provide the Jacobites with 
ammunition, but he had kindled in the breast of the aged 
King the same ardor which glowed within his own, and 
he had brought him almost to the point of declaring war 
with England. He had obtained pecuniary assistance from 
Spain. He had opened negotiations with Charles XII. 
He had put himself into communication with the leading 
Jacobites in the three kingdoms, and had exactly informed 
them both of what it was necessary for them to do, and 
of what it behooved them to guard against. He had twice 
* *'Mcmoirs,"Tol. ii.,p. 202. 



LORD BOLINQPROKE IN EXILE. 101 

saved James from taking steps which must inevitably have 
ruined him. Affairs which were, before he left Dauphine, 
in the utmost possible perplexity, now began to assume an 
aspect so promising that some of the leading members of 
George's Government were meditating treachery, and the 
Chevalier could number among his adherents the great 
names of Marlborough and Shrewsbury. Measures had, 
moreover, been concerted for seizing Bristol, Exeter, and 
Plymouth. It would not, we think, be going too far to 
say that, had Bolingbroke been suffered to continue as he 
commenced, had he been properly supported by the Jaco- 
bite leaders, had his warnings been regarded, had his in- 
structions been carried out, had his supremacy in the Coun- 
cil been seconded by Berwick's supremacy in the field, 
the whole course of European history might have been 
changed. The more closely we examine the Rebellion of 
1715, the more apparent will this appear. It began as a 
desperate enterprise on the part of a few hot-headed ad- 
venturers. It promised, under the direction of Boling- 
broke, to become the first act of a tremendous drama. The 
scheme of operations as designed by him was without a 
flaw, lie had provided for all contingencies except those 
contingencies which no human foresight can meet. In 
the United Kingdom he had laid the foundation of a co- 
alition which would in all probability be irresistible; on 
the Continent he was sure of the neutrality of those Pow- 
ers which could oppose his designs, and he had ample rea- 
sons for supposing that those Powers would, on the first 
appearance of success, declare in his favor. But the levity 
and faithlessness of James, and the insane folly of the Jac- 
obites, were unhappily in exact proportion to his own 
wisdom and foresight. At the end of August he was as- 
tounded to hear that Ormond, on whom everything de- 



r02 • ESSAYS. 

pended in England, and who had in a recent despatch 
promised to hold out, had deserted his post and was in 
Paris. The flight of Ornaond was shortly afterwards suc- 
ceeded by the death of Louis XIV. " He was," said Bol- 
ingbroke, " the best friend the Chevalier ever had, and 
when I engaged in this business my principal dependence 
was on his personal character, my hopes sunk when he de- 
clined, and died when he expired." 

These events were, indeed, a severe blow. For the 
flight of Ormond augured ill for the prospects of the Jac- 
obites in England, and the death of Louis augured ill for 
their prospects in France. Still he did not despair. The 
next three weeks were spent in receiving and in answering 
despatches from England and Scotland, and in sounding 
the new French Government. The Regent was courteous 
and sympathetic, but Bolingbroke was not long in discern- 
ing that the interests of that wily prince were by no 
means compatible with running any risks for the Jaco- 
bites. The state of France was indeed such as to preclude 
all hopes of assistance. Louis had left his kingdom in a 
deplorable condition. Her provinces were desolated by 
famine. Her finances were hopelessly involved ; her cap- 
ital was torn by faction. The only thing which could 
enable her to recover herself was peace, and the mainte- 
nance of peace was therefore the Regent's first considera- 
tion. There was also another question which entered large- 
ly into his calculations. The rickety and sickly child whose 
place he filled was scarcely likely to survive infancy. Philip 
of Spain, who was, in order of succession, next heir to the 
throne of France, had by the Treaty of Utrecht solemnly 
renounced all claims to it. The Regent, therefore, was 
heir-presumptive. But Philip had recently announced that 
he had no intention of abiding by his former decision. 



LORD BOLINGBROKE IN EXILE. 103 

and that the renunciations he made at Utrecht were, as 
the lawyers had at the time justly asserted, invalid. His 
claim was good, and it was his intention, should occasion 
offer, to assert it. This claim Orleans very naturally de- 
termined to resist, and was anxious to form such alliances 
as might enable liim to make this resistance effectual. He 
shrank, therefore, from compromising himself with the Eng- 
lish Government by assisting the Jacobites, and from com- 
promising himself with the Jacobites by assisting the Eng- 
lish Government, for either party might serve his turn. 
His policy was to leave the two parties to settle the 
question of supremacy between them, and to maintain a po- 
sition of strict neutrality until that question should be de- 
cided. It was a matter of little importance to him wheth- 
er George or James sat on the throne of England, but it 
was a matter of great importance to him that the king 
who filled that throne should, in the event of young Louis's 
death, consent to guarantee the succession of the House 
of Orleans. Such was, we believe, the real policy of the 
Regent at this conjuncture. He was certainly in commu- 
nication with Ormond and Bolingbroke ; he was certainly 
in communication with Stair and Stanhope. 

And now everything began to go wrong. The Jacobites 
were apparently bent on nothing but self-destruction. The 
chief objects of their leaders appeared to be to outbid each 
other in folly, and to defeat the efforts of the two men 
who might have saved them. The only coadjutors in 
whom James had any confidence were those who were be- 
traying him to Stair. The only counsellors who had any 
weight with Ormond were two harlots and a hare-brained 
priest. Bolingbroke and Berwick had scarcely a voice in 
the conduct of affairs. If they were consulted, they were 
consulted only to be laughed at; if they issued instruc- 



104 ESSAYS. 

tions, their instructions were either countermanded or set 
at naught. 

This was badj but tliis was not all. To men situated as 
the Jacobites then were, nothing was more indispensable 
than secrecy ; but their secrets were, as Bolingbroke bitter- 
ly observed, the property of everybody who kept his ears 
open. *' For no sex," he adds, " was excluded from our 
ministry. Fanny Oglethorpe tept her corner in it, and 
Olive Trant was the great wheel of our machine." In con- 
sequence of this indiscreet loquacity, it was soon known 
that a small armament, assembled at Havre, had been as- 
sembled for the purpose of assisting the Chevalier. Stair 
demanded, therefore, that it should be surrendered to the 
English Government. To this request, however, the He- 
gent refused to accede, but a compromise was accepted, 
and the flotilla was disarmed and broken up. Having thus 
succeeded in ruining themselves by sea, the Jacobites lost 
no time in ruining themselves by land. In the middle of 
September, Bolingbroke addressed a despatch to Mar, who 
had undertaken the management of affairs in Scotland, 
pointing out to him that it would be worse than useless 
to raise the Highlands without support from France, and 
without providing for a simultaneous movement on the 
part of the Jacobites in England. But Mar had already 
assembled the clans before Bolingbroke's despatch arrived. 
It appears, indeed, that James had had the inconceivable 
folly to issue, on his own responsibility, and without 
consulting either Bolingbroke or Berwick, previous instruc- 
tions ordering Mar to take this insane step. All that en- 
sued was of a piece with all that preceded. Blunder fol- 
lowed on blunder, disaster on disaster, in rapid succession. 
Ormond sailed for Devonshire to find, instead of loyal 
multitudes rallying round his standard, a solitary coast, a 



LORD BOLINGBROKE IN EXILE. 105 

churlish fellow who refused him a night's lodging, most 
of the leading Jacobites in custody, and warrants out for 
the arrest of Jersey and Wyndham. The Chevalier, not 
to be outdone in folly, dallied at St. Malo, debating about 
what was the best thing to do till it was too late to do 
anything but despair, and then hurried off to head a for- 
lorn hope in Scotland. 

In a few months all was over. A tragedy, the particu- 
lars of which it is difficult, even at this distance of time, 
to peruse without tears, had been enacted. A large multi- 
tude of brave and generous enthusiasts had, in obedience 
to a noble impulse, and after making heroic self-sacrifices, 
rushed to destruction. Everything that could be effected 
by a spirit which rose superior to privation and reverses, 
by fidelity strong even to martyrdom, and by a fortitude 
which death could subdue only by extinguishing, these 
gallant men had done. For a cause which was in their 
eyes the cause of Justice, they had sacrificed their fortunes ; 
for one who was to them merely the representative of a 
righteous claim, they had poured out their blood. What- 
ever may have been the motives which guided their lead- 
ers in France, the motives of these unhappy men had at 
least been pure and honorable. But terrible, indeed, had 
been their fate. Many who had not had the good-fortune 
to find a grave in the field, had been condemned to die the 
death of felons. Two chiefs, distinguished by rank and 
opulence, and still more honorably distinguished by the 
virtues of heroism, had been led to the scaffold, their blood 
attainted, their property confiscated. The hopes of the 
Jacobites had been blighted; their power had been de- 
stroyed; their very names had become a byword. 

One thing, and one thing only, was now wanting to make 
James and his counsellors completely contemptible. If 

5* 



106 ESSAYS. 

their party contained a man whose sagacity and good sense 
had, during the general frenzy, been above imputation, and 
whose services had entitled him to the respect and grati- 
tude of the Jacobites, that man was Bolingbroke. Of all 
James's servants, he had been the most able and the most 
zealous. lie had furnished the Jacobites with a plan of 
operations which nothing but their own temerity and 
wrongheadedness could have defeated. He had amply 
forewarned them of their errors; and when they had set 
his warnings at defiance, he had toiled with almost super- 
human energy to extricate them from the consequences of 
those errors. When the prospects of Jacobitism were 
blackest, when everything was lost in England, and when 
everything was on the point of being lost in Scotland, ho 
had not despaired. He had renewed his applications to 
Spain and Sweden ; he had been at great pains to procure 
and ship off ammunition and soldiers. He had submitted 
to every indignity to gain access to the Regent, and, in 
Berwick's emphatic phrase, " he had moved heaven and 
earth " to obtain assistance from the French Court.* His 
official duties he had performed with punctilious exactness, 
and from the day on which he took up the Seals at Com- 
mercy to the day on which he was ordered to resign them, 
he had done nothing inconsistent with the character of a 
wise and honest Minister. All this weighed, however, very 
little with men who saw that they might, with a little man- 
agement, make him the scape-goat of their own follies. 
With the Jacobite clique in the Bois de Boulogne he had 
never been popular. From the Jacobite rabble he had al- 
ways stood contemptuously aloof. Scandalous stories were 

* Berwick gives eloquent and indignant testimony to the services 
of Bolingbroke and to the folly and ingratitude of James. — Memoirs^ 
vol. ii., pp. 253-257. 



LORD BOLINGBROKE IN EXILE. 107 

therefore without difficulty vamped up against him and 
industriously circulated. He was charged, among other 
things, with having at a supper-party spoken disrespect- 
fully of James, which was possibly true; with having 
lavished on his mistress money which had been intrusted 
to him for State purposes, which was certainly false ; with 
having neglected his duties, which carried with it its own 
refutation. Mar and Ormond, with scandalous indifference 
to truth, attributed to his incapacity and negligence the 
misfortunes in Scotland, and the fact that no assistance 
had been obtained from France. The Chevalier, glad to 
find an opportunity of imputing to his Minister the ca- 
lamities for which he had himself been mainly responsible, 
caught eagerly at these calumnies. At the end of January, 
therefore, Bolingbroke suddenly received his dismissal, the 
dismissal being accompanied with gross insult, and suc- 
ceeded by a storm of obloquy. So terminated his unfort- 
unate connection with the Jacobites. 

We have thought it desirable to enter at some leno-th 
into this episode in his career, first because of the influence 
it subsequently exercised both on his conduct and on his 
opinions, and secondly because it has, we think, been very 
generally misunderstood. Few parts of his public life have 
been so malignantly assailed, and no part of his public life 
was, we are convinced, more creditable to him. lie served 
James as he had never before served Anne, and as he never 
afterwards served any master. At no period was his polit- 
ical genius seen to greater advantage, at no period were 
his characteristic defects under better control. During 
these few months he exhibited, indeed, some of the highest 
qualities of an administrator and a diplomatist, and if he 
failed, he failed under circumstances which would have 
rendered Richelieu powerless, and have baffled the skill of 



108 ESSAYS. 

Theramenes or Talleyrand. The motives which originally 
induced him to join the Jacobites were, as we have already 
shown, anything but laudable, but an estimate of the mo- 
tives which induced him to join the Chevalier, and an esti- 
mate of his conduct as the Chevalier's Minister, ought by 
no means to be confounded. What he did he did well, 
though it should never have been done at all. 

The news of his disgrace was received with much satis- 
faction bv the Enojlish Cabinet. The character of Bolins:- 
broke was too well known to admit of any doubt as to the 
course he would take. All who knew him knew that his 
recent allies had transformed the most formidable of their 
coadjutors into the most formidable of their enemies; and 
he would, it was expected, run into all lengths that revenge 
and interest might hurry him. The Jacobites had, indeed, 
suffered too severely in the recent struggle to make it prob- 
able that they were in a position to renew hostilities, but 
their real strength was still unknown, their numbers were 
still uncertain, their movements were full of mystery. If 
Bolingbroke would consent to throw light on these points 
— and no man was more competent to do so — he would 
relieve the Ministry from much embarrassment. If he 
could be induced to open the minds of the Tories to the 
real character of James, he would do much to restore pub- 
lic tranquillity. It was resolved, therefore, to see what 
could be done with him, and instructions were forwarded 
to Stair to solicit an interview. The two statesmen met 
at the Embassy. Bolingbroke behaved exactly as Stair 
anticipated. He longed, he said, to get back to England. 
His sole anxiety was to be enabled to serve his country 
and his sovereign with zeal and affection. He would do 
everything that was required of him. He would show the 
Tories what manner of man the Pretender was, and how 



LORD BOLINGBROKE IN EXILE. 109 

grossly they bad been deceived in bim. lie could not, as 
a man of honor, either betray individuals or divulge private 
secrets, but he would throw all the light he could on the 
movements and on the designs of the Jacobites. ''Time 
and ray uniform conduct will," be added in conclusion, 
"convince the world of the uprightness of my intentions, 
and it is better to wait for this result, however long, than 
to arrive hastily at one's goal by leaving the highway of 
honor and honesty." To all this Stair listened with sym- 
pathy and respect. His instructions had, however, gone 
no further than to hold out " suitable hopes and encour- 
agement," and suitable hopes and encouragement were all 
that Bolingbroke could obtain from him. Bolingbroke 
left the Embassy, little thinking that seven years were to 
elapse before those hopes were even partially to be realized. 
Those seven years were perhaps the happiest years of 
his life. He was, it is true, pursued by the unrelenting 
malevolence of the Jacobites, and he was kept in a state 
of uneasy expectation by Stanhope and Sunderland, who 
would neither definitely refuse nor definitely promise a par- 
don. But, for the rest, his life was without a shadow, and 
he had in truth little occasion for the exercise of that stoi- 
cism which he now began with so much ostentation to 
profess. He was in the prime of manhood. His excesses 
had not as yet begun to tell upon his fine constitution. A 
fortunate speculation had secured him a competence. A 
fortunate connection was soon to win him from grosser in- 
dulgences to more refined enjoyments. He was the centre 
of a society which numbered among its members some of 
the most accomplished men and women of those times. 
In the salons of the Faubourg Saint-Germain he was a wel- 
come guest. In the Societe d'Entresol he had a distin- 
guished place. He was enabled to gratify to the full, first 



110 ESSAYS. 

at Marcilly and subsequently at La Source, the two pas- 
sions whicli were, he said, the dominant passions of his life 
— the love of study and the love of rural pursuits. Ambi- 
tion had still its old fascination for him, but the nature of 
that ambition had undergone a complete change. Up to 
this time he had been the leader of a party ; he now aspired 
to be a leader of mankind. Up to this time the prize for 
which he had been contending had been popularity; the 
arena on which he had fought, an arena crowded with ig- 
noble competitors. He now aspired to enter that greater 
arena where, in a spirit of more honorable rivalry, nobler 
candidates contend for nobler prizes. 

At the beginning of this period he produced, within a 
few months of each other, a work of which the best that 
can be said of it is that it would not disgrace a University 
prizeman, and a work which has by many of his critics 
been pronounced to be his masterpiece — the " Reflections 
on Exile," and the "Letter to Sir William Wyndham." 
The *' Reflections on Exile " is in truth little more than a 
loose paraphrase of Seneca's " Consolatio ad Helviam," gar- 
nished with illustrative matter from Cicero and Plutarch, 
and enlivened with a few anecdotes derived principally 
from the Roman historians and from Diogenes Laertius. 
It reproduces in a diffuse and grandiloquent style those 
silly paradoxes by which the followers of Zeno affected to 
rob misfortune of its terrors. As exile has been the lot 
of some of the most exalted characters of antiquity, exile 
involves no dishonor, and dishonor is all that a good man 
has to fear. To a philosopher exile is impossible, for a 
philosopher is a citizen of the world, and how can a man 
be banished from his country when his country is the uni- 
verse ? If exile is a misfortune, exile is a blessing, for 
without misfortune there can be no virtue, and without 



LORD BOLINGBROKE IN EXILE. ill 

virtue there can be no enjoyment. These sentiments, 
which would have been ridiculous in the mouth of Cato 
or Brutus, become doubly ridiculous when proceeding from 
a man like Bolingbroke, and their inconsistency is the more 
grotesque when we remember that at the time this Essay 
was written the profligacy of his private life, though on 
the eve of reformation, had reached its climax, and that he 
was, in his letters and conversation^ expressing the greatest 
impatience to return to England. 

In striking contrast to this absurd and puerile declama- 
tion stands the Letter to Wyndham, which must not be 
confounded — and we are surprised to see that so well-in- 
formed a writer as M. Charles de Remusat does confound 
it — with the shorter "Letter to Wyndham," dated Sep- 
tember 13, 1716, and preserved among the "Townshend 
Papers." The immediate cause of the composition of this 
celebrated work was the appearance of a pamphlet, entitled 
"A Letter from Avignon," a publication in which the Jac- 
obites had at great length enumerated the crimes and blun- 
ders of which they accused Bolingbroke. Incensed at this 
libel, which he afterwards described as a medley of false 
fact, false argument, false English, and false eloquence, he 
determined not only to refute once and forever the calum- 
nies of his contemptible assailants, but to do everything in 
his power to sow dissensions between the Tories and the 
Jacobites, and to furnish posterity with an elaborate vin- 
dication of his conduct and policy, from his accession to 
oflBce in IVIO to his dismissal from the Pretender's service 
in 1 716. Of the historical value of this work we have al- 
ready spoken. Of its literary value it would be impossible 
to speak too highly. As a composition it is almost fault- 
less. It exhibits in perfection that style of which Boling- 
broke is our greatest master — a style in which the graces 



112 ESSAYS. 

of colloquy and the graces of rhetoric harmoniously blend 
— a style which approaches more nearly to that of the finest 
disquisitions of Cicero than any other style in the world. 
Walpole never produced a more amusing sketch than the 
picture of the Pretender's Court at Paris and of the Privy 
Council in the Bois de Boulogne. Burke never produced 
anything nobler than the passage which commences with 
the words — " The ocean which surrounds us is an emblem 
of our government." The account of the state of affairs 
during the last years of Anne, at the accession of George 
I., and during the course of the Rebellion, are models of 
graceful and luminous narrative, and we shall have to go 
to Clarendon or Tacitus to find anything superior to the 
portraits of Oxford and of James. 

Its serious reflections, its strokes of humor, its sarcasm, 
its invective are equally admirable. It is singular that 
though this Letter was, as we have seen, written with the 
immediate object of crushing the Jacobites, it was never 
published, perhaps never even printed, until after Boling- 
broke's death. Of this curious circumstance no satisfac- 
tory explanation has been given. Mr. Macknight's theory 
is that Bolingbroke withheld its publication in consequence 
of the suspension of his pardon, and afterwards forgot it. 
This is not, we think, very probable. Our own opinion is 
that when busy with the work he altered his mind, and, 
attaching more importance to it as a vindication of his 
conduct in the eyes of posterity than as a contribution to 
ephemeral polemics, resolved to keep it by him until death 
had removed those who might challengd his assertions and 
shake his credit. The Letter abounds in statements which 
rest on no authority but that of the writer — statements 
which may be false or which may be true, but which, true 
or false, would not have passed unquestioned by contem- 



LORD BOLINGBROKE IN EXILE. 113 

poraries. It bears, moreover, all the marks of careful re- 
vision. No work of Bolingbroke is more highly finished. 
Bolingbroke was now in liis thirty-ninth year. Since 
his residence in France his relations with the other sex had 
either been those of a libertine or a trifler. Sensual pleas- 
ures were beginning to pall upon him. Platonic gallant- 
ries were becoming wearisome. His wife was in England, 
and his wife he regarded with contempt. But in the 
spring of lYlV he met a woman who inspired him with a 
passion very different from anything which he had experi- 
enced before. Marie -Claire Deschamps de Marcilly was 
the widow of the Marquis de Villette, and the niece of 
Madame de Maintenon. As a school-girl at Saint-Cyr, she 
had attracted the attention of Louis XIV., by the skill 
with which she had supported the character of Zares, when, 
under the auspices of Madame de Maintenon, Racine's 
"Esther" was acted by the scholars of that famous semi- 
nary. She was now upward of forty, and her beauty had 
lost its bloom. But her grace, her vivacity, her accom- 
plishments, made her the delight of the polished circles in 
which she moved. Her wit has been celebrated by Wal- 
pole, and her conversation was, even among the coteries 
of Versailles, noted for its brilliancy. In the majority of 
women such qualities are perhaps more calculated to strike 
than to charm, to impress the mind than to touch the 
heart ; but in the Marquise de Villette they were tempered 
with the feminine charms of amiability and good taste. 
Bolingbroke was soon at her feet. His mistress was not 
obdurate, and the two lovers appear to have divided their 
time between the Rue Saint-Dominique, Faubourg Saint- 
Germain, where the marquise had a town residence, and 
Marcilly in Champagne, where she possessed a fine chateau. 
The death of Lady Bolingbroke in November, 1718, re- 



114 ESSAYS. 

moved the only impediment to their marriage, but the 
ceremony was deferred till 1720, when they were in all 
probability married at Aix-la-Chapelle. A little before 
this event occurred, Bolingbroke was relieved by a great 
piece of good-luck from the disagreeable necessity of being 
dependent on his wife's fortune. He had been induced to 
take some shares in Law's Mississippi stocks when the 
shares were low, and those shares he had sold out in time 
to realize large profits. He afterwards observed that if he 
could have condescended to flatter Law for half an hour a 
week, or to have troubled himself for two minutes a day 
about money markets, he might have gained an immense 
fortune; but such transactions were, in his opinion, little 
worthy either of a philosopher or of a gentleman. 

At the beginning of 1720 he removed with his wife 
to that romantic and picturesque spot which is still as- 
sociated with his name. La Source, near Orleans. Here 
he amused himself with laying out his grounds, with scrib- 
bling Latin inscriptions for his summer-houses, and with 
trying to persuade his friends and himself that the world 
and the world's affairs were beneath his notice. In his 
Letters to Swift he affects the character of an elegant 
trifler, indulges with absurd affectation in the cant of 
the Porch and the Garden, and writes in a style in which 
the best vein of Horace and the worst vein of Seneca 
are curiously intermingled. Such was Bolingbroke as he 
chose to describe himself to his acquaintances in Eng- 
land, but such was not the Bolingbroke of La Source. 
His habits were, in truth, those of a severe student. He 
rose early, he read hard. His intimate companions were 
men of science and letters, and the time that was not spent 
in study was spent for the most part in literary and philo- 
sophical discussion. Since his retirement from Paris he 



LORD BOLINGBROKE IN EXILE. 115 

had been engaged on works wLicli could have left liim lit- 
tle leisure for idling. We find him busy with antiquities, 
with patristic and classical literature, with researches into 
the credibility of ancient annals, and with a comparative 
criticism of the various systems of chronology. We learn, 
moreover, from his correspondence, that he had, in addi- 
tion to all this, struck out some new theory about history, 
and that he was meditating an account of Rome and Eng- 
land to be written in accordance with that theory. Since 
his residence at La Source his undertakings had been still 
more ambitious. By the end of 1722 he had probably 
produced — for it is extremely difficult to settle the ex- 
act date of his earlier works — the Letters to Pouilly, of 
which he subsequently published an interesting abstract ; a 
" Treatise on the Limits of Human Knowledge," of which 
he speaks in a letter to x\lari, and which is perhaps sub- 
stantially identical with the first of the Four Essays ad- 
dressed to Pope ; the " Letter occasioned by one of Arch- 
bishop Tillotson's Sermons;" and the "Reflections on 
Innate Moral Principles." In a word, he had, before he 
quitted La Source, formulated the most important of those 
historical and philosophical theories which were afterwards 
developed in works given to the world. He had forged 
the weapons which, variously tempered, were in a few years 
to be wielded with such tremendous effect by his disci- 
ples. This is a circumstance which, in estimating his in- 
fluence on contemporaries, and pre-eminently on Voltaire, 
it is very necessary to bear in mind. But it is a circum- 
stance which has, we believe, escaped the notice of all his 
biographers and critics. The consequence has been that 
they have fallen into error of a fourfold kind. They have 
represented Bolingbroke as following, where in reality he 
was leading. They have attributed to his disciples what 



116 ESSAYS. 

undoubtedly belongs to him; they Lave confounded his 
theories with the theories of the English Freethinkers, and 
they have supposed that the movement of which he was 
the central figure in France was identical with the move- 
ment of which Toland and Tyndal were the central figures 
in England. Nothing is, it is true, more natural than to 
estimate the influence of an author upon his age by the 
influence of his published writings, and yet in Boling- 
broke's case nothing would be more misguiding. The era 
inaugurated by him in the history of political opinion 
dates, indeed, from the appearance of his papers in the 
Craftsman; but the era he inaugurated in a far more im- 
portant revolution dates from a period long antecedent to 
the publication of a single treatise by him. This era was 
marked, not by what he printed, but by what he spoke ; 
not by what he dictated to an amanuensis, but what he 
dictated in familiar intercourse to his friends. Many years 
before his appearance as an author, his work as an initia- 
tor had been done. Many years before he appealed him- 
self to the public mind, he had appealed to those by whom 
the public mind is moved. While the circulation of his 
writings was confined to private cliques, the substance of 
his writings had been interpreted to Europe in prose as 
matchless as his own, and in verse more brilliant than that 
in which Lucretius clothed the doctrines of Epicurus ; for 
his first disciple was Voltaire, and his second disciple was 
Pope. 

We believe, then, that when young Francois Arouet ar- 
rived, in the winter of 1721, as a visitor at La Source, Bol- 
ingbroke had made considerable progress in the First 
Philosophy, had formulated his creed, and was perhaps not 
unwilling to provide the new creed with neophytes. Vol- 
taire — to call him by the name he afterwards assumed — 



LORD BOLINGBROKE IN EXILE. lit 

was in raptures with his host. Ho found hira almost om- 
niscient : " J'ai trouve dans cet ilhistre Anglais," he is writ- 
ing to his friend Theriot, " toute Ferudition de son pays et 
toute la politesse du notre. Cet hommc, qui a passe toute 
sa vie dans les plaisirs et dans les affaires, a trouve pourtant 
le moyen de tout apprendre et dc tout retenir. II sait I'his- 
toire des anciens Egyptiens comrae celle d'Angleterre ; il 
possede Yirgile comme Milton ; il aime la poesie Anglaise, 
la Frangaise et I'ltalienne." The young poet was at that 
time busy with his epic poem, which Bolingbroke pro- 
nounced to be superior to anything which had yet ap- 
peared in French poetry. Their conversation soon turned, 
however, on more serious topics than the virtues of Henri 
Quatre ; and Voltaire, who entered La Source meditating 
the "Henriade," quitted it meditating " Lc Pour ct le Con- 
trc." How long he remained under Bolingbroke's roof 
it is now impossible to say, but he evidently remained long 
enough to become impregnated with his ideas. The in- 
timacy thus commenced in France was afterwards renewed 
in England, where for upwards of two years the friends 
lived within a few miles of each other. 

The nature and extent of Bolingbroke's influence on 
Voltaire is one of the most interesting questions in the lit- 
erary history of the eighteenth century, and it is a ques- 
tion which has never, in our opinion, received half the at- 
tention it deserves. English biographers have, as a rule, 
ignored it ; French critics have contented themselves with 
making a few general observations, in which a very lauda- 
ble desire to do justice to Bolingbroke struggles with a 
very natural desire to do honor to Voltaire. Now Voltaire 
himself never made any secret of his obligations to Bol- 
ingbroke. When the two friends first met at La Source, 
Bolingbroke discussed, he listened. To the end of his life 



118 ESSAYS. 

he regarded him as his master. To the end of his life he 
continued to speak of him with mingled feelings of rever- 
ence and affection. When the two friends first met, Bol- 
ingbroke was just at that age when the individuality of 
men is most pronounced; Voltaire was just at that age 
when the mind is most susceptible and most tenacious 
of new impressions. The one was aspiring to open out 
fresh worlds of thought, to initiate a fresh era in the his- 
tory of inquiry ; the other had, up to that time, aspired 
to nothing higher than to polish verses and to point epi- 
grams. Bolingbroke assumed, therefore, naturally enough, 
the authority of a teacher; Voltaire accepted, naturally 
enough, the position of a disciple. When they met in 
England they met on a similar footing : the one eager to 
impart, the other eager to acquire ; the one covering reams 
of manuscript with his thoughts, the other storing his 
memory with recollections. In conversation Bolingbroke 
delighted in long monologues, the diction of which was, 
we are told, as perfect as that of his printed dissertations. 
" He possessed," says Chesterfield, " such a flowing happi- 
ness of expression that even his most familiar conversa- 
tions, if taken down in writing, would have borne the press 
without the least correction either as to method or style." 
In these monologues he dealt at length with the topics 
which form the substance of his philosophical works. In- 
deed, it was notorious among those who knew him well, 
that there was scarcely a theory, an opinion, or even an 
idea, in his posthumous writings which had not been re- 
peatedly anticipated by him in conversation. To these con- 
versations Voltaire sat for two years a delighted listener. 
It would not, of course, be true to say that what he learned 
in the drawing-room at Dawley was the sum of what he 
gathered during his residence among us. For he studied 



LORD BOLINGBROKE IN EXILE. 119 

our literature and our history, our institutions and our char- 
acter, as none of his countrymen have ever done before or 
since. But there is, we think, a distinction to be drawn 
between what he derived from observation and study, and 
what he derived immediately from his intercourse from 
Bolingbroke. What he saw and read, sent him from our 
shores a master in the niceties of our tongue, a scholar 
familiar with almost everything which English genius had 
produced in poetry, in criticism, in satire, in metaphysical 
speculation ; the champion of civil and intellectual liberty, 
the disciple and exponent of Locke and Newton. From 
Bolingbroke he learned the application of those studies. 
He emerged from the school of Locke and Newton a logi- 
cian and a philosopher. He emerged from the school of 
Bolingbroke the Prince of Iconoclasts and the Apostle of 
Scepticism. It was Bolingbroke who taught him to per- 
vert the " Essay on the Human Understanding " into a vin- 
dication of materialism, and the " Novum Organon " into a 
satire on metaphysics. Nor was this all. The writings 
and the conversation of his friend furnished him not only 
with the hint and framework of those doctrines which the 
world has for many generations recognized as most charac- 
teristic of Voltaire, but with an inexhaustible store of illus- 
trative matter ; with references, with illustrations, with ar- 
guments. This will be at once evident if we compare what 
Voltaire has written on metaphysics, on early Christianity, 
on theological dogma, on the nature of the Deity, on the 
relation of man to the Deity, on inspiration, on religious 
sectarianism, on the authenticity of the Hebrew Scriptures, 
on the authenticity of the Gospels, on the credibility of 
profane historians, on the origin of civil society, on the ori- 
gin of evil, on the study and true use of history, with what 
Bolingbroke has written on the same subjects. Should any 



120 ESSAYS. 

one be inclined to question the correctness of what we have 
advanced, we would exhort him to compare the " Traite de 
Metaphysique," the "Dieu et les Hommes," and the " Ho- 
melie sur I'Atheisme," with the Abstract of the " Letters 
to Pouilly," and the "Essays" addressed to Pope; the 
" Examen Important de milord Bolingbroke," and the re- 
marks on Jewish History in the " Essai sur les Moeurs," 
with the " Letter occasioned by one of Archbishop Tillot- 
son's Sermons," and the dissertation on Sacred Annals in 
the " Third Letter on the Study of History ;" the " Lettres 
de Memmius a Ciceron" with the "Minutes of Essays;" 
the tenth, eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth articles in the 
" Fragmens sur FHistoire" with the theories and principles 
inculcated in the " Letters on the Study of History." It 
would not, perhaps, be going too far to say that the his- 
torical dissertations of Bolingbroke suggested and inspired 
both the "Essai sur les Moeurs" and the "Essai sur le 
Pyrrhonisme de FHistoire," as they certainly furnished 
models for the opening chapters of the " Siecle de Louis 
XIV." 

To return, however, from our digression. Though Bol- 
ingbroke continued to assure his friends that his life at La 
Source left him nothing to desire, that his philosophy grew 
confirmed by habit, and that he was — we are quoting his 
own words — under no apprehension that a glut of study 
and retirement would ever cast him back into the world, 
his whole soul was ulcerated by discontent and impatience. 
He implored Lord Polwarth, whom he met in the spring 
of 1722, to remind the English Ministry of their promise. 
He applied to the Duke of Orleans and to Du Bois to ex- 
ercise their influence with Walpole and Townshend. He 
expressed himself willing to submit to any conditions if he 



LORD BOLINGBROKE IN EXILE. 121 

could only procure a pardon. It appears to have been at- 
tained chiefly through the influence of Carteret and Towns- 
hend, who had been induced, primarily by Stair and more 
recently by Polvvarth, to remind the King of what had, 
seven years before, been promised in the interview at the 
Embassy.* At last, in May, 1723, the grant which enabled 
him to become once more a denizen of his native country 
passed the Great Seal. An Act of Parliament was still nec- 
essary for the restoration of his right of inheritance, and 
for the recovery of his seat in the Upper House. He was 
now, however, enabled to plead for himself. At the begin- 
ning of June he set out for England. As the ship was 
waiting for a favorable wind a curious incident occurred. 
A few weeks before, his old coadjutor Atterbury had been 
convicted of treasonable correspondence with the Jacobites, 
and had in consequence been ordered to quit the king- 
dom. The two men, formerly allied so nearly, and now so 
widely estranged, passed each other, without speaking, at 
Calais — the one the proselyte, the other the martyr, of a 
common cause. " I am exchanged," was the Bishop's very 
significant comment. 

On his arrival in London, Bolingbroke found that the 
King had departed for Hanover, and that the two secre- 
taries, Carteret and Townshend, were with him. Many 
months would in all probability elapse before the Houses 
reassembled. During the interval he hoped by dexterous 
diplomacy to form such alliances and to mature such 
schemes as would, in the following session, suffice to make 
the reversal of his attainder a matter of certainty. In the 
tactics of political intrigue he had few rivals, and he soon 
discovered that he was in a position eminently favorable 
for their application. The schisms which had from the 

* See " Marcbmont Papers," vol. ii., p. 184. 

6 



122 ESSAYS. 

formation of George's first Ministry divided the Cabinet 
had now resolved themselves into one great struggle. The 
events of I7l7 had left Sunderland and Stanhope masters 
of the field. The events of 1721 had ruined Sunderland 
and Stanhope, and had established the supremacy of Wal- 
pole and Townshend. That supremacy had been confirm- 
ed by the death of Stanhope in 1721, and by the death of 
Sunderland in 1722. There still remained, however, one 
formidable rival, a rival who had inherited all those princi- 
ples of foreign and domestic policy which Sunderland had 
labored to uphold, who with those principles possessed 
abilities such as neither Stanhope nor Sunderland had any 
pretension to, and who, though he had not completed his 
thirty-third year, had more influence in the councils of Eu- 
rope than either of the two Ministers. That rival was 
Carteret. As long as Carteret remained, Walpole and his 
brother-in-law saw that they would have no peace. But 
to get rid of Carteret was no easy matter. At this mo- 
ment, indeed, it seemed probable that the struggle would 
terminate in favor of their refractory colleague. He stood 
well with the King; he stood well with those by whom 
the King was governed, with Berndorf and Bothmar, with 
the Countess of Darlington and with the Countess of 
Platen. At the Court of France his influence was para- 
mount, for the English ambassador, Sir Luke Schaub, was 
his creature, and the late Regent's confidential adviser, Du 
Bois, was his friend. While the issue of this contest still 
hung doubtful, Bolingbroke prudently abstained from as- 
suming the character of a partisan. Both of the rivals 
could, as he well knew, serve his turn ; the opposition of 
either might be fatal to his interests. By estranging Car- 
teret he would estrange the Court ; by estranging Walpole 
and Townsliend ho would estrange the most influential 



LORD BOLINGBBOKE IN EXILE. 123 

members of the Upper and the Lower House. In a few 
weeks, however, it became more and more evident that the 
power of Carteret was declining-, and at the end of July 
Bolingbroke attempted, by a skilful and well-timed ma- 
noeuvre, to establish such relations with Walpole as must 
have imposed on that Minister the necessity of becoming 
his advocate. He was, he said, in a position to make a 
proposal, which would not, he hoped, in the present condi- 
tion of affairs, be unacceptable. His friends, the leaders 
of the Tory party. Sir William Wyndham, Lord Bathurst, 
and Lord Gower, were prepared to form a coalition with 
the brother Ministers. They had already been invited to 
coalesce with Carteret, but they had no faith either in 
Carteret's policy or in Carteret's promises, and they were 
now willing to take their stand by Walpole as they had 
been a few months back ready to take their stand by his 
rival. Walpole at once discovered with what object these 
overtures had been made. He had little confidence in the 
Tories, he had still less confidence in their ambassador; 
and he not only peremptorily declined to enter into such 
a negotiation, but he boldly told Bolingbroke that he had 
been guilty of great indiscretion in entangling himself in 
Tory intrigues, when his political salvation depended on 
the favor of a Whio; Parliament. This was not encourao;- 
ing, but Bolingbroke had too much sagacity to display 
either resentment or chagrin ; he gracefully acknowledged 
the justice of what Walpole had said, expressed himself 
perfectly satisfied with the result of their interview, and 
withdrew to try his fortune with Townshend and Carteret. 
In September he started for Aix-la-Chapelle, nominally on 
the plea of ill-health, really, no doubt, to see if he could 
succeed in obtaining an interview with the King, and to 
consider in what way he could turn to account the despica- 



124 ESSAYS. 

blc intrigues whicli soon afterwards terminated in the fall 
of Carteret. During liis visit at Aix-la-Chapelle be re- 
ceived, however, no encouragement to go on to Herren- 
hausen, and in a few weeks he proceeded to Paris. He 
found the Court of Versailles the centre of that struggle 
which was agitating Whitehall and Herrcnhausen. It had 
now reached its climax. The English ambassador, Sir 
Luke Schaub, the nominee of Carteret, had been virtually 
superseded by Horace Walpole, the nominee of Walpole 
and Townshend. Paris was distracted with the quarrels 
of the rival Ministers. The partisans of Carteret united 
with Schaub in taunting Walpole ; the partisans of Walpole 
united with his brother in insulting Schaub ; and all was 
confusion. 

In the midst of these ignominious squabbles the Duke 
of Orleans died, and the Duke of Bourbon succeeded him. 
It was a critical moment. Our relations with Foreign 
Powers were at that instant of such a kind that a change 
in the policy of the French Cabinet could not be contem- 
plated without alarm. W^ith Orleans and Du Bois our in- 
tercourse had been frank and cordial, with the Duke of 
Bourbon we were in a manner dealing with one who was 
almost a stranger. It became very necessary, therefore, 
not only to cultivate his good-will, but to ascertain, if pos- 
sible, his views. The course of these events had been 
watched by Bolingbroke with anxious interest. He had 
now made up his mind that all was over with Carteret, he 
had accordingly determined to have nothing more to do 
with Schaub, and to come to an understanding with Schaub's 
antagonist. The accession of the Duke of Bourbon afford- 
ed him just the opportunity he wanted. He could now, 
he thought, repeat with a better chance of success the same 
stratagem which he had before attempted in England— 



LORD BOLINGBROKE IN EXILE. 125 

could, that is to say, force bis services on the Cabinet in 
such a manner as to oblige them in common justice to 
assist him. With this object he waited on Horace Wal- 
pole. He had come, he said, to offer himself as a mediator 
between the Embassy and the Court, and for this post he 
was, he ventured to think, peculiarly well qualified. He 
had the good-fortune to be on intimate terms with the 
Duke, and with the only person who had influence with 
the Duke, with Madame de Prie. "And he seemed to 
appear," Walpole dryly remarks, " rather indifferent than 
over-fond of such a commission, taking it for granted, at 
the same time, as if this had been an application to him."* 
He wrote off in a similar strain to London, volunteering in 
lengthy despatches not only information but counsel. In 
a word, he managed with consummate dexterity to as- 
sume such importance in the conduct of affairs as must, 
in a few weeks, says Coxe, have thrown the principal man- 
agement of the whole business into his hands, and have 
necessitated his complete restoration, both as an act of 
justice and as an act of expediency. This, however, Hor- 
ace Walpole, whose official distrust of his artful coadjutor 
appears to have been sharpened by feelings of intense per- 
sonal dislike, determined to prevent. By taking the bold 
step of directly communicating with the Duke, he rendered 
the interposition of Bolingbroke unnecessary ; and though 
he continued to avail himself, in some degree, of his as- 
sistance, he took care to keep him in a position strictly 
subordinate. " I have," he writes to his brother Robert, 
" made good use of Lord Bolingbroke's information, with- 
out having given him any handle to be the negotiator of 
his Majesty's affairs." Before leaving Paris, Bolingbroke 
made another desperate attempt to force himself into prom- 
* Coxe's "Memoirs of Horatio Lord Walpole," vol. i., p. 110. 



126 ESSAYS. 

inence, by undertaking the management of an intrigue, the 
details of which can have no interest for readers of the 
present day, and into which, therefore, we shall not pause 
to enter.* But all was in vain, and in the summer of the 
following year, weary, angry, and dejected, he hurried off 
to bury himself in his library at La Source. 

Meanwhile the treachery of an English banker, who had 
been intrusted to invest a large sum of money belonging 
to the Marquise de Villette, but who now refused to re- 
fund it, on the plea that, as she was the wife of an attainted 
citizen, the money had been forfeited, necessitated the ap- 
pearance of Lady Bolingbroke in London. She arrived in 
May. She pleaded her own cause with success, and her 
husband's cause with assiduity and skill. Her voluble elo- 
quence appears, indeed, rather to have embarrassed than to 
have charmed the King, but the judicious present of eleven 
thousand pounds to the Duchess of Kendal purchased the 
services of the most persuasive of all advocates. The King 
promised to consult Walpole. Walpole, who had no de- 
sire to find himself confronted on the Opposition benches, 
or side by side on the Treasury benches, with a rival so 
able and so unscrupulous as Bolingbroke, expressed him- 
self in the strongest terms against the measure. Several 
months passed by. The Duchess continued to importune 
her royal lover ; Walpole persisted in entreating the King 
to let the affair stand over. Every day, however, the posi- 
tion of the Minister became more embarrassing. Strong 
though he was, he was not strong enough to brave the dis- 
pleasure of the Duchess, who had already been instrument- 
al in driving Carteret and Cadogan from the helm. He 

* For the particulars of this intrigue, which related to the grant 
of a dukedom to De la VrilUere, see Coxe's " Memoirs of Horatio 
liord Walpole," vol. i., pp. 115-124. 



LORD BOLINGBROKE IN EXILE. 12V 

was anxious, also, to oblige Harcourt, with whom he was 
then on very intimate terms ; and of all Bolingbroke's ad- 
vocates, Harcourt was the most indefatigable. Still the 
Minister held out. At last the King became so angry that 
Walpole was actually threatened with dismissal if he de- 
layed the measure longer. Then he consented to a com- 
promise* The Bill for Bolingbroke's restoration should 
be introduced, if the restoration proposed should extend 
only to a restoration of property and of the right of inher- 
itance. With this Bolingbroke, who had come over from 
France in the spring, and who saw that for the present at 
least nothing further was to be obtained, professed himself 
satisfied. Accordingly, in April, the Bill, presented by 
Lord Finch and seconded by Walpole, was brought in. 
Modified as it was, a large section of the Whigs, who had 
not forgotten the Treaty of Utrecht, and a large section of 
the Tories, who had not forgotten the events of 1717, unit- 
ed in opposing it. Finally, however, it became law, by a 
majority of 231 against 113, and Bolingbroke could now 
enjoy all the privileges of a private, though not of a pub- 
lic man. 

From this moment he led two lives. In his villa at 
Dawley he played with still more ostentation the part 
which he had played at Marcilly and La Source, surrounded 
himself with poets and wits, discoursed, we are told, as no 
mortal had ever discoursed since Plotinus unfolded himself 
to Porphyry, and became so ethereal that Pope, with tears 
in his eyes, prophesied for him the fate of Elijah. But in 
his house in Pall Mall he underwent a very singular trans- 
formation. There the exponent of the Harmony of the 
Universe degenerated into a factious and mischievous in- 
cendiary ; there the opponent of Plato and the Academy 

* Coxe's "Memoirs of Horatio Lord Walpole," vol. i., p. 125. 



128 ESSAYS. 

sank into the opponent of Hoadley and Grub Street ; and 
there the patriot, ^Yho had in the morning been cursing 
faction because it was ruining his country, and expressing 
contempt for civil ambition as unworthy of even the mo- 
mentary consideration of a philosopher, was, in the even- 
ing, plotting with the chiefs of the Opposition the down- 
fall of the Government, and ready to sell his very soul for 
a place. 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 



SUMMARY. 



Bolingbroke chiefly noticeable as a polemic writer : his position 
and influence in the political contest, p. 131, 132 — Attitude of the 
Parties: the leaders of the Opposition, p. 133-137 — Organization of 
the strife: launching of the Opposition paper, the Craftsman, p. 137, 
138 — Bolingbroke one of its chief contributors, p. 138 — His interview 
with the King fruitless, p. 139, 140 — Death of the King, p. 141 — Crit- 
ical aspect of affairs, ihld — Walpole restored to power, p. 142 — Dis- 
graceful party strife in Parliament : venality of office-holders, p. 142- 
144 — The Opposition party playing on the popular feeling in order to 
discredit the Walpole Ministry', p. 144-147 — Nearly successful, p. 147 
— The Excise bill, p. 147-149 — Review of Bolingbroke's literary activ- 
ity in the Craftsman from 1727 until 1734, p. 150 — Eis " Remarks on 
the History of England," p. 151-153 — His "Dissertation upon Par 
ties," p. 154, 165 — Bolingbroke as a writer on philosophical and meta 
physical subjects : his rural pursuits at his country-house at Dawley, 
p. 155, 156 — His open-handedness to friends, p. 157, 158— His friend 
ship with Pope, p. 159 — His influence on Pope's mind and studies, 
-p. 159-163 — His departure from England: reasons for same, p, 163- 
165 — His residence in France: exclusive devotion to philosophic in- 
quiries, p. 165, 166 — His "Letters on the Study of History," p. 166, 
167 — His "Letter on the Spirit of Patriotism," p. 168 — Character of 
the Prince of Wales, p. 169-171 — Unscrupulous adulation of same in 
Bolingbroke's writings, p. 171, 172 — His "Patriot King:" considera- 
tions thereon, p. 172-175 — Walpole's influence declining: his resig- 
nation, p. 175, 176 — Bolingbroke arrives too late from France: the 
Premiership has already been snatched from him, p. 176 — Retrospect 
of Bolingbroke's literary career, p. 177 — His unworthy conduct tow- 
ards Pope, p. 177-179 — His last days, p. 180 — Afflictions of age: his 
death, p. 181— Review of his philosophical works, p. 181-186— Sum- 
mary of his philosophy, p. 185, 186— Epilogue, p. 187. 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 

In our last article we left Bolingbroke on the eve of 
that tremendous struggle which continued for fifteen years 
to agitate the public mind in England, which was to end 
in the downfall of Whig tyranny, which was to revolution- 
ize the creed of the Two Factions, and which was to estab^ 
lish new dynasties with new principles in party politics. 
To that great revolution no one contributed more power- 
fully than he. The more closely we follow its history in 
his essays and correspondence — and nowhere is its history 
written so fully and so legibly — the more obvious wiH this 
appear. Almost every manoeuvre on the part of the Op- 
position we find traceable, in the first instance, to his sug- 
gestion. From him emanated the theories and sentiments 
which, promulgated at one time by the Whig and at an- 
other time by the Tory section of the minority, matured 
into the gospel of the Patriots. It was he who had the 
sagacity to discover where Walpole and his colleagues were 
most vulnerable. It was he who shook England with the 
tempest of 1733. It was he who barbed and aimed the 
deadliest of the bolts which Pulteney and Wyndham 
winged from the Opposition benches. Of all this we have 
ample evidence in such of his writings as have been given 
to the world. But his influence on political history dur- 
ing these years would, we suspect, be found to be even 
more considerable than we know it to have been, if his un- 



132 ESSAYS. 

published correspondence, now mouldering in the archives 
of Petworthj'IIaglcy, and Ilcmel Hemsted, were properly 
examined. His biographers appear to have made no ef- 
fort to obtain access to these collections. They have con- 
tented themselves with such extracts as have been given 
by Coxe, Phillimore, and the editor of the " Marchmont 
Papers." 

But the period of Bolingbroke's literary activity has an- 
other side. Between 1726 and 1752 he was not merely 
the leader of the Patriots and the most indefatigable of 
political controversialists, he was the centre of other and 
calmer spheres. It will be our pleasant task to follow him 
thither, and our readers will doubtless be as glad as our- 
selves to exchange Pall Mall for Dawley, to quit Walpole 
and Townshend for Pope and Yoltaire, and to escape from 
Excise Bills and Secessions to discuss the First Philosophy, 
and the " Essay on Man." 

At the beginning of 1726 the position of Walpole and 
Townshend appeared impregnable. They stood high in 
the favor of the King and in the favor of the people. The 
removal of Carteret had relieved them of their only for- 
midable rival in the Cabinet. The disgrace of Atterbury, 
four years before, had completed the paralysis of the Jac- 
obites. The Opposition was too divided in its views, and 
too heterogeneous in its composition, to afford any grounds 
for apprehension. The clouds which had for many months 
obscured the horizon of foreign pontics had been dispersed. 
The Treaty of Hanover had defeated the hostile designs 
of Spain and Austria. Comparative tranquillity at last 
reigned in Scotland and Ireland. But a great change was 
at hand. A new era in Parliamentary history had already 
begun. 

Of all the enemies of Walpole the most active and the 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 133 

most malignant was Daniel Pulteney. During the reign 
of Anne he had been envoy at Copenhagen. As a Com- 
missioner of Trade and as a Lord of the Admiralty — for 
between I7l7 and 1721 he filled both these appointments 
— he had proved himself a useful and industrious public 
servant. He had been the friend and confidant of Sun- 
derland during the whole period when the feud between 
Walpole and Sunderland was deadliest. When Sunderland 
fell in 1721, Pulteney had borne a principal share in those 
cabals by which his patron sought to recover office. As 
the price of this co-operation he had, in the event of suc- 
cess, been promised the Seals, and he had therefore distin- 
guished himself by his hostility to Walpole, for on the 
ruin of Walpole depended his own advancement. But the 
death of Sunderland dashed all these hopes to the ground. 
From this moment he became a soured and gloomy misan- 
thrope. The prejudices which he had inherited from Sun- 
derland, aggravated by his own bad passions, inflamed his 
animosity against Walpole to such a pitch that it resem- 
bled monomania. But he was a monomaniac of a very 
dangerous character. For with solid parts and methodical 
habits he united no small skill in the tactics of intrigue. 
Though he was no hypocrite, manners naturally graceful 
and pleasing, and a temper kindly and generous when un- 
provoked, served to conceal the implacable malignity of 
his disposition when anything occurred to rufile him. His 
energy was indefatigable. As a speaker he was clear and 
weighty. His acquaintance with affairs was extensive ; his 
Parliamentary connection considerable. He was now toil- 
ing night and day to form out of the scattered elements of 
the Opposition a coalition against Walpole. He lacked, 
however, the qualities necessary for organization ; and 
though he was eminently fitted for the duties of a subor- 



134: ESSAYS. 

dinate, he was by no means competent to lead.* What 
Daniel Pulteney lacked, that his kinsman William possess- 
ed. No politician of those times filled a larger space in 
the public eye than William Pulteney. He had entered 
ofiice while still a very young man ; his family was influ- 
ential ; no stain rested on his character ; his private fort- 
une was immense. His parts were so brilliant, his genius 
so versatile, that in whatever walk of life his lot had been 
cast, he would in all probability have achieved eminence. 
His political pamphlets and his papers in the Craftsman 
remain to testify his abilities as a writer. f One of his 
songs was for many years among the most popular in our 
language; and Pope has in a celebrated verse expressed his 
opinion that, had Pulteney chosen to cultivate light litera- 
ture, he would have rivalled Martial. As a wit and a say- 
er of good things he was considered not inferior to Ches- 
terfield, and many of his hon-7nots still hold a distinguished 
place in literary anas. The extent and variety of his at- 
tainments were the wonder of all who knew him. With 
the masterpieces of ancient and modern literature he was 
equally conversant. His familiarity, indeed, with the Greek 
classics was such as was in that age very unusual, even 
with professed scholars. But no rust of pedantry dimmed 
the keen and brilliant intellect of William Pulteney. In 
practical sagacity and in official experience he was scarcely 
inferior, perhaps, to Walpole, and he needed only Walpole's 
equanimity and self-control to become as autocratic and 
successful. As an orator he had, since the retirement of 

* For the character of Daniel Pulteney, see Speaker Onslow's " Re- 
marks," Coxe's "Memoirs of Sir Robert Walpole," vol. ii., p. 559. 

f The papers written by him are marked C, and those marked CA. 
were written conjointly with Amhurst. See Bishop Newton's " Au- 
tobiography," p. 123. 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGJBROKE. 135 

Bolingbrokc and till the appearance of Pitt, no equal among 
contemporary statesmen. He shone alike in exposition and 
in debate, in set orations and in extempore speeches. At 
this moment, indeed, he had not yet arrived at that degree 
of excellence which, at the head of the Opposition, he 
shortly afterwards attained. Ever since his entrance into 
public life, he had distinguished himself as a firm and con- 
sistent Whig. When the schism took place in 17X7, he 
had attached himself to Walpole, had resigned a valuable 
place, and had followed the fortunes of his friend. When 
Walpole returned to power, Pulteney was not invited to 
fill a seat in the Cabinet. An angry discussion between 
the two friends ensued. Walpole proposed an indemnity 
in the shape of a peerage. This Pulteney regarded as an 
aggravation of the slight. For some time he continued to 
remain a vexatious and irritable member of the Govern- 
ment. At last, in April, 1725, he was dismissed from a 
post which he held in the Household, and openly went 
over to the minority. Walpole, fully aware both of the 
influence and of the abilities of the man who had now de- 
clared war against him, made a desperate attempt to bribe 
him back. But affairs had gone too far. Nothing would 
satisfy Pulteney but the ruin of his old colleague. He 
liad, he said, been grievously wronged, and he would have 
his revenge. 

While the two Pulteneys were thus brooding over their 
grievances, and waiting for an opportunity of vengeance, 
another malcontent, not less rancorous and even more for- 
midable, was similarly engaged. For two years Boling- 
broke had submitted to every indignity that he might re- 
gain his seat. He had lackeyed and flattered Walpole, 
whom he hated. He had lackeyed and flattered Walpole's 
brother, whom he despised. He had been lavish of his 



136 ESSAYS. 

money, of his energy, and of his time ; and he had, after a 
long and weary struggle, been forced to accept a compro- 
mise, which rendered him capable of possessing fortune 
and incapable of enjoying it. For this restriction on his 
happiness he had been indebted to Walpole ; and he now 
resolved not merely to obtain the removal of this restric- 
tion, but to make the Minister who had imposed it feel 
the full effect of his resentment. The Pulteneys and him- 
self soon came to an understanding. The plan of opera- 
tion was simple. It was obvious that the security of Wal- 
pole could never be shaken as long as his opponents re- 
mained disunited. At this moment the minority consisted 
of three distinct bodies of men : a large section of discon- 
tented Whigs, a large section of Tories who had abandoned 
Jacobitism, and a small section of Tories who still adhered 
to it. Could these factions be induced to coalesce ? Could 
they be induced to bury minor differences in common hos- 
tility against a common foe ? The co-operation of the Jac- 
obite contingent was not, indeed, a matter of much mo- 
ment ; but the co-operation of the Hanoverian Tories was 
of the last importance. Now, the leader of this faction 
was Sir William WyndharU, and with Wyndham Boling- 
broke lived not merely on terms of intimacy, but on terms 
of affection. Sir William was at once taken into the con- 
fidence of the conspirators, and in a very short time the 
party at the head of which were the Pulteneys, and the 
party at the head of which was Wyndham, had, by the 
mediation of Bolingbroke, consented to act together. Such 
was the origin of that famous Coalition, which continued 
for so many years to keep this country in a state of per- 
petual agitation, which inspired politics with new princi- 
ples, and literature with a new spirit ; which brought into 
being a new school of politicians, which destroyed Walpole 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 137 

and created Pitt, wliicli numbered among its ranks in Par- 
liament the most accomplished public men, and in its ranks 
out of Parliament some of the most distinguished men of 
letters then living ; for among the first, in addition to the 
Pulteneys, were Wyndhara, Carteret, Chesterfield, Argyle, 
Pitt, Polworth, Dodington, Lyttelton, and Barnard ; and 
among the second, in addition to Bolingbroke, were Pope, 
Swift, Arbuthnot, Gay, Fielding, Akenside, Brooke, Thom.- 
son, Paul Whitehead, Glover, and Johnson. 

Having concluded their arrangements for embarrassing 
the Government within the walls of St. Stephen's, Boling- 
broke and Pulteney now proceeded to consider in what 
way they could rouse and engage the passions of the coun- 
try. A few years before these events occurred, an under- 
graduate at Oxford, named Amhurst, had been expelled 
from his college on a charge of libertinism and insubordi- 
nation. Since that time he had been engaged in libelling 
the University. He was now pushing his fortunes in 
London. Though his habits were squalid and profligate, 
he was, as his writings showed, a man of parts and wit; 
and as he possessed, in addition to these qualifications, an 
empty purse, loose principles, and a facile pen, he had al- 
ready risen to distinction among journalists. Pulteney 
proposed, therefore, that negotiations should be opened 
with Amhurst, and that he should be invited to undertake 
the management of a periodical. This periodical was to 
be the mouthpiece of the Opposition. It was to demon- 
strate to the whole nation the tyranny, the insolence, and 
the rapacity of Walpole. It was to assail his foreign and 
domestic policy, and to point out that the one was a tissue 
of blunders, and the other a tissue of corruption. It was 
to charge him with making the King his dupe, that he 
might make him his tool, and the Cabinet his parasites, 



138 ESSAYS. 

that lie might make the people his slaves. There was lit- 
tle difficulty in inducing Amhurst to occupy a post for 
which he was so well fitted; and on the 5th of December, 
1726, appeared the first number of the Craftsman. It is 
not now, we believe, possible to recover the names of all 
the contributors to this famous publication, which contin- 
ued for upward of ten years to exercise an influence on 
public opinion without precedent in journalism. By far 
the largest, and beyond question the most valuable portion, 
is to be ascribed to Bolingbroke. Many papers were con- 
tributed by Pulteney, many by Amhurst, and many by 
Amhurst and Pulteney in conjunction. The circulation 
was, for those times, enormous. Indeed, it is said at one 
time to have exceeded ten thousand copies a week. 

Bolingbroke was now all fire and hope. In the spring 
of 1727, in addition to his Essays in the Craftsman^ he 
produced, under the title of the " Occasional AVriter," three 
papers so acrimonious and personal as to ruffle even the 
imperturbable temper of Walpole. Into the particulars of 
these altercations we cannot enter ; but as a specimen of 
the decency with which political controversy was, in the 
days of our fathers, occasionally conducted, we will tran- 
scribe a few sentences of the First Minister's rejoinder : 

" Though you have not signed your name, I know you : you are an 
infamous fellow, a perjured, ungrateful, unfaithful rascal ... of so 
profligate a character that in your prosperity nobody envied you, and 
in your disgrace nobody pities. You were in the interests of France 
and of the Pope, as hath appeared by your writings, and you went 
out of the way to save yourself from the gallows. You have no abil- 
ities ; you are an emancipated slave, a proscribed criminal, and an 
insolvent debtor. You went out of the way to save yourself from 
the gallows, and Herostratus and Nero were not greater villains than 
you. You have been a traitor and should be used like one. And I 
love my master so well that I will never advise him to use you, lest 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 139 

jou should jostle me out of my employment. I know you to be so 
hot - headed that when you read this you will vent all your malice 
against me. But I do not value it, for I would rather have you my 
enemy than my friend. Change your name and be as abusive and 
scurrilous as you please, I shall find you out. You may change to a 
flame, a lion, a bull, or a bear, I shall know you, baffle you, conquer 
you, and contemn you. All your opposition will redound to ray honor 
and glory." ^ 

This was not exactly tbe style of Bolingbroke, and AVal- 
pole never afterwards ventured, we believe, to confront bis 
adversary on paper. While the press was thus hard at 
work, Bolingbroke was busy also in another quarter. It 
was well known that the Duchess of Kendal and her niece, 
Lady Walsingham, were by no means favorably disposed 
towards Walpole. It was notorious, also, that the King 
and the Prince of Wales were at open war, and that the 
affections of the Prince were divided between his wife 
and Mrs. Howard. By assiduously cultivating the Duch- 
ess and her niece, Bolingbroke sought, therefore, to gain 
the ear of the King ; and by assiduously cultivating Mrs. 
Howard, to secure the favor of the heir-apparent. This 
double intrigue was, however, a matter of considerable 
difficulty ; for by paying court to the King he ran the 
risk of estranging the Prince, and by paying court to 
the Prince he was almost certain to estrange the King. 
He conducted it at first with consummate tact. In the 
first part of it, indeed, he was successful. The Duchess 
became his advocate. She even risked a large pension to 
serve him. He drew up an eLaborate statement enumer- 
ating the blunders of Walpole, enlarging on his unpopu- 
larity, incapacity, and corruption, and offering, if the King 
would grant an interview, to demonstrate at length the 
truth of what he had asserted. This document the Ducli- 



140 ESSAYS. 

ess placed in the King's bands. He perused it and sent it 
on to Walpole. Walpole advised the King to grant the 
interview, and the interview was granted. On this critical 
occasion Bolingbroke acquitted himself with far less dex- 
terity than might have been expected from so accomplished 
a diplomatist. He began with a florid eulogy of his own 
merits and abilities. He then went on to assail in general 
terms the character and the conduct of his opponent ; and 
when the King, interrupting, asked for proofs and particu- 
lar illustrations of what he was advancing, he merely pro- 
ceeded to recapitulate in other words the same general 
charges. Walpole was notoriously unfit for his post : he 
was despised abroad, he was hated at home ; he was in- 
volving affairs in inextricable confusion ; he would, if he 
continued in power, make his royal master as unpopular as 
himself. "Is this," said the King, becoming impatient, 
*' all you have to say ?" And with these words he turned 
on his heel, and Bolingbroke was curtly dismissed. 

It seems, indeed, quite clear that nothing that Boling- 
broke had said had made any serious impression on his 
majesty, as the King afterwards spoke of him as a knave, 
and of the statements he had made as bagatelles. But it 
is equally clear that Walpole was, in spite of the King's 
assurance, greatly alarmed. The favor of princes was, as 
he well knew, a perishable commodity. He was surround- 
ed by enemies ; almost all those enemies were the coadju- 
tors of his rival: his influence with the King was great, 
but the influence of the Duchess was greater; and with 
the Duchess the cause of Bolingbroke had now become in 
a manner her own. Indeed, Walpole is said to have been 
so convinced that his rival would ultimately supplant him, 
that he was on the point of resigning the Seals and of ac- 
cepting a seat in the Upper House. The chances of Bol- 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 141 

ingbrokc at this singular crisis have doubtless been exag- 
gerated, but there is, we think, ample reason for supposing 
that had the King lived a few months longer, a revolution, 
of which it would have been difficult to foretell the conse- 
quences, might have ensued. Whether Bolingbroke would 
have succeeded in replacing Walpole, as he confidently an- 
ticipated, is, we think, very problematical, though Pelham 
assured Onslow — and Pelham in all likelihood was simply 
repeating what he had heard from Walpole — that, had the 
King lived to come back from Hanover, " it was very prob- 
able that he would have made Lord Bolingbroke his Chief 
Minister." That Bolingbroke would have succeeded in re- 
gaining his seat in the Upper House is more than probable. 
"As he had the Duchess entirely on his side," said Wal- 
pole to Etough ten years afterwards, " I need not add what 
must or might have been the consequence." At the be- 
ginning of June the King set out for Hanover. On the 
fourteenth a despatch arrived announcing his death. 

In an instant everything was in confusion. Nothing 
seemed certain but the fall of Walpole. The new king 
ordered the First Minister to receive his instructions from 
Sir Spencer Compton. Two of his creatures were dis- 
missed from their employment; his parasites abandoned 
him ; his antechamber was a desert. The Opposition con- 
fidently anticipated that their time had come. Ten days 
afterwards all was changed. The ludicrous incompetence 
of Compton, Walpole's own tact, and the favor of the 
Queen, saved the Ministry. Bolingbroke and Pulteney, 
who had placed all their hopes on Mrs. Howard, soon found 
that Mrs. Howard was as helpless as themselves. Judging 
as men of the world would be likely to judge, they had 
concluded that the mistress would have more authority 
than the wife, and that the King, as a lover, would be more 



142 ESSAYS. 

amenable to persuasion than the King as a husband. But 
they were as yet imperfectly acquainted both with the 
strange character of the new sovereign and with the still 
stranger character of the woman who shared his throne. 
In truth, the relation between a husband habitually uxori- 
ous and habitually unfaithful, and a wife who, to maintain 
her supremacy, condescends to superintend the amours of 
her consort, might well be misinterpreted even by the most 
penetrating observer. Before her accession the Queen had 
been the friend of Walpole, and had in strong terms ex- 
pressed her aversion to Bolingbroke. After her accession 
she entered into the closest alliance with her favorite Min- 
ister, and became even more emphatic in her hostility to 
his opponent. Against such a coalition — for the secret of 
the Queen's power was soon known — Bolingbroke saw 
that it would be idle to contend. He abandoned, there- 
fore, all hopes of making his peace with the King. Fort- 
une had again played him false. His defeat liad been 
complete and ignominious. 

But he was not the man to despair. If victory had been 
lost on one field, it might be gained on another. If he 
could not appeal to the King, he could appeal to the coun- 
try, and t) make that appeal he now bent all his energies. 

The Parliamentary history of the next twelve years is 
one of the most scandalous chapters in our national annals. 
At the head of the Government stood a Minister, experi- 
enced indeed, moderate, skilful, and sagacious, but selfish 
beyond all example of political selfishness, and ready at 
any moment to sacrifice his convictions to his interests, 
and his country to his place. At the head of the Opposi- 
tion stood a body of malcontents, whose conduct was on 
all occasions dictated by motives of mere personal animos- 
ity, and whose policy, if policy it could be called, consisted 



i 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 143 

simply in opposing whatever their rivals advocated, and in 
advocating whatever their rivals opposed. In neither party 
can we discern any of those qualities which entitle public 
men to veneration. The vices of Walpole were gross and 
flagrant. The virtues so ostentatiously professed by his 
opponents consisted of nothing more than a pompous jar- 
gon of words. By both parties the welfare of the country 
was, in the exigencies of their ignoble struggle, regarded 
as a matter of purely secondary consideration. To embar- 
rass Walpole, the Opposition united to defeat measures 
the soundness and utility of which must have been obvious 
to a politician of the meanest capacity. To maintain him- 
self against the Opposition, Walpole was often compelled 
to resort to expedients by which, as he well knew, tempo- 
rary advantages were obtained at high prices and at great 
risk. The sole object of Walpole was at all costs to main- 
tain his place. The sole object of the Opposition was to 
dislodge him. This they endeavored to effect, not so much 
by grappling with their enemy in his stronghold, as by or- 
ganizing an elaborate system of counter-manoeuvres. Thus 
because Walpole was for alliance with France, the Opposi- 
tion was for alliance with Austria. Thus, when Walpole, 
though nominally the leader of the Whigs, became in 
everything but in name a Tory, the leaders of the Opposi- 
tion, though they were for the most part Tories, became 
in everything but in name Whigs. When Walpole played 
the autocrat, the Opposition played the demagogue ; Wal- 
pole harangued against factious incendiaries, and the Op- 
position harangued against Royal parasites. 

But it was not on these points that the minority took 
their principal stand. It was no secret that to secure his 
majority Walpole practised corruption on a very large 
scale, and that to control Parliament he filled all places of 



144 ESSAYS. 

honor and emolument with his creatures. We have not 
the smallest doubt that every member of the Opposition, 
with the exception, perhaps, of Barnard and Shippen, would, 
had he been in Walpole's place, have acted in precisely the 
same manner. But Walpole was in and the Opposition 
were out. To combat him with his own weapons was im- 
possible. The Royal favor, boundless patronage, a venal 
Senate with ample means for purchasing its votes, venal 
constituencies with ample means for buying their electors, 
gave him an immense advantage over opponents whose 
only resources lay in eloquence and in the fortunes of pri- 
vate gentlemen. One course, and one course alone, was 
open to them. In such contests the ultimate appeal lies 
to the people. To the people, therefore, the Opposition 
determined to address themselves, and they prepared at 
the same time to endeavor to educate their judges. This 
was not diflScult. The principles on which Walpole gov- 
erned were, when interpreted by skilful rhetoricians, capa- 
ble of being rendered peculiarly odious to a proud and 
high-spirited nation. It is one thing for a man to pocket 
a bribe, it is another thing for a man to feel himself a 
slave. No Englishman, however degraded, was insensible 
to the tradition of a great and splendid past, or would sub- 
mit to see public morality systematically outraged, and the 
national honor sullied. No Englishman, however selfish, 
would consent, even at the price of material prosperity, to 
connive at tyranny, or to allow the slightest of his privi- 
leges to be tampered with. The old war-cries were still 
etficacious. The spirit which brought Strafford to the 
block and set the Deliverer on the throne still burned in 
the breasts of thousands. The King was unpopular, and 
was, like his predecessor, suspected of making the interests 
of Eno-land altoofether subordinate to the interests of Han- 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 145 

over, and in this unpopularity Walpole soon found himself 
involved. 

In 1730 the retirement of Townshend left Walpole in 
the possession of power more absolute than any English 
Minister had enjoyed since the days of the first two Stu- 
arts. This soon became a fertile theme with his enemies. 
The invectives of Bolingbroke, Pulteney, and Amhurst in- 
creased every day in audacity and vehemence. AVere the 
countrymen of Hampden and Sidney, they cried, to become 
the prey of a despotic parasite ? Would the descendants 
of men who had vindicated with their blood the rights of 
Englishmen, consent, for a few guineas, to barter away the 
most sacred of all inheritances? Had Buckingham and 
Strafford been forgotten? Was the Court of Edward II. 
to be revived in the Court of George II. ? Whose blood 
should not boil to see the benches of the House of Com- 
mons crowded with the puppets of a Royal minion, and 
the House of Lords teeming with the lackeys of a base 
upstart? While these themes, so admirably adapted to 
catch and inflame the multitude, continued to fill the pages 
of the Craftsman week after week, the Opposition were 
not idle within the walls of Parliament. Every measure 
which the Minister brought forward was traversed. Every 
scheme which could be devised for embarrassing him was 
essayed. They bad already interpreted the Treaty of Han- 
over as a base and impolitic concession to the Throne and 
to the Electorate, and on this subject they continued, dur- 
ing many sessions, to harp. They then opposed, and on 
this occasion opposed with justice, the proposal for main- 
taining a large body of Hessian troops with English pay. 
Then they pretended that, in spite of the sinking fund, the 
public burdens had increased, and demanded an explana- 
tion. A loud and angry controversy ensued. They were 

1 



146 ESSAYS. 

beaten. Upon that tliey reqnested to know to wliat uses 
a large sum of money wliicli had been charged for secret 
service Lad been applied. They were answered. Next 
they attacked the Government on the question of Gibral- 
tar. The ministers had, they said, pledged the honor of 
the nation that that fortress should be ceded to Spain, 
and they assailed them for not keeping their promise. 
But the cession of that fortress would, they contended, 
be detrimental to the interest of England, and they as- 
sailed them for having made it ; taunting them with false- 
hood on the one hand, and with treachery on the oth- 
er. As soon as the Treaty of Seville had set this question 
at rest, they shifted their ground, and struck at Walpole 
on another side. They moved for leave to bring in a Bill 
which should disable all persons who had any pension, or 
any office held in trust for them from the Crown, from sit- 
ting in Parliament, and they proposed that every member 
should, on taking his seat, make oath that he enjoyed no 
such preferment. Defeated on this point by a skilful ma- 
noeuvre on the part of Walpole, they raised a cry that the 
French were repairing the fortifications and harbor of Dun- 
kirk. A long and singularly intemperate debate followed.* 

* At this debate Montesquieu, then on a visit to England, was pres- 
ent, and has left in his " Notes sur I'Angleterre " a curious account 
of it. As the passage appears to have escaped the notice not only 
of Bolingbroke's biographers, but of Coxe and Lord Stanhope, we 
will transcribe it: " J'allais avant-hier au parlement a la chambre 
basse : on y traita de I'afifaire de Dunkerque. Je n'ai jamais vu un 
si grand feu. La seance dura depuis une heure apres raidi jusqu'a 
trois heures apres minuit. M. Walpole attaqua Bolingbroke de la 
fa9on la plus cruelle, et disait qu'il avait mene toute cette intrigue. 
Le Chevalier Wyndham le defendit. M. Walpole raconta en faveur 
de Bolingbroke I'histoire du paysan qui, passant avec sa femme sous 
un arbre, trouva qu'uu homme peudu rcspirait encore. II le detaclia 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 147 

But nothing illustrates more clearly the factious and vexa- 
tious spirit of these malcontents than their conduct with 
regard to the second Treaty of Vienna. During several 
years their chief cause of complaint against the foreign 
policy of Walpole had been its tendency to depress Aus- 
tria and to exalt France. No such objection could now be 
urged. The second Treaty of Vienna adjusted the scales 
exactly as the Opposition had long contended that they 
should be adjusted. But no sooner was it concluded than 
it was assailed. It involved ns, they said, in a meshwork 
of treaties and guarantees. It necessitated our interference 
as principals in any rupture which might take place among 
European Powers. And yet, as islanders, it was our inter- 
est to maintain a strictly neutral attitude with respect to 
Continental politics, and a strictly defensive attitude with 
regard to ourselves. With the maintenance of the balance 
of power, except in a purely subordinate capacity, we had 
nothing to do.* 

But it was not till the spring of 1733 that the ascen- 
dency which the Opposition had by degrees been gaining; 
over the public mind became fully manifest. In that year 
they succeeded in shaking the Government to its very 
foundations ; in that year they all but succeeded in driving 
Walpole in ignominy from power. It is nov/ generally 
allowed that the Excise scheme was one of the wisest and 
most equitable measures which ever emanated from a 
British financier. It infringed no right, it introduced no 

et le porta cliez lui : il revint. lis trouverent le lendemain que cet 
homme leur avait vole leurs fourchettes, lis dirent : il ne faut pas 
s'opposer au cours de la justice, il le faut rapporter ou nous I'avons 
pris." • 

* See the Craftsman, Nos. 242, 248, 251 ; Goxe's "Memoirs of Sir 
Robert Walpole," vol. i., p. 346. 



148 ESSAYS. 

innovation. Its burden fell lightly, and it fell equally. 
There is not the smallest reason for supposing that Walpole 
contemplated extending its operation further than the du- 
ties on wine and tobacco. That, indeed, he expressly stated, 
not merely in his public speeches, but in private letters 
and in conversation. The benefits accruing from it would 
have been immense. It would have enabled the Govern- 
ment to check the frauds by which, in the tobacco trade 
alone, the revenue was annually robbed of half a million 
sterling. It would have enabled the Exchequer to dis- 
pense with the Land-tax. It would, by converting the 
duties on importation into duties on consumption, have 
been greatly to the advantage of the merchant importer. 
It would, as Walpole justly boasted, have tended to make 
London a free port, and, in consequence, one of the great- 
est centres of commerce in the world. It affected in no 
way the scale of prices either in the wholesale or retail 
markets. But the Opposition saw at a glance that it was 
a measure peculiarly susceptible of distortion, a measure 
which, in their controversy with the Minister, might, by 
dint of a little sophistry, be turned to great account. And 
to great account they turned it. Aggravating the preju- 
dices which already existed against this mode of taxation, 
and boldly assuming that the proposed excise on wine and 
tobacco was the prelude to a general excise, they drew an 
appalling picture of what would, they said, in a few years 
be the condition of the English people. Food and raiment, 
all the necessities as well as all the luxuries of life, would 
be taxed. These taxes would be collected by armed of- 
ficers who would constitute a standing army, and this odi- 
ous body would be empowered to enter and ransack private 
houses. Trade would be ruined. Liberty would be at an 
end. The rights of a free people would be the sport of a 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 149 

tj'rannical Monarch at the head of a tyrannical Ministry. 
Magna Charta would be repealed. The Bill of Rights 
would be a dead letter; and the House of Commons would 
be abolished. While this monstrous rhodomontade circu- 
lated among the vulgar, other arguments less extravagant, 
but scarcely less absurd, were addressed to politer politi- 
cians. In a few weeks the object of the Opposition had 
been gained. From the Peak to the Land's End, and from 
the Wrekin to the Humber, the whole country was in a 
blaze. Petitions came pouring in. The Press and the Pul- 
pit teemed with philippics. Every street and every village 
resounded with cries of " No slavery, no excise, no wooden 
shoes." One fanatic swore that he would have Walpole's 
head. A turbulent mob forced their way into the Lobby 
and into the Court of Requests, and on the night on which 
the Bill passed, the First Minister was in imminent peril 
of encountering the fate of De Witt* The measure be- 
came law, but the temper of the nation was such that, if 
the provisions of the Bill had been carried out, they could 
only have been carried out at the point of the bayonet, 
and Walpole was therefore reduced to the ignominious 
necessity of abandoning his scheme.f This blow he never 
recovered. 

Elated by their triumph, the Opposition now moved for 
the repeal of the Septennial Act, a motion peculiarly adapt- 
ed to embarrass the Government, and peculiarly calculated 
to please the mob. A debate ensued, distinguished even 
in those agitated times for its acrimony and intemperance. 

* This has been contradicted, but see particularly Lord Hervey's 
"Memoirs," vol. i., pp. 200, 201. 

f For the whole question of the Excise scheme, see the Crafts- 
man from October 28, 1V32, where it is first discussed, to August 4, 
1733. 



150 ESSAYS. 

One episode in that debate Avas long remembered. The 
onslaught made by Wyndham on Walpole, and the reply 
in which Walpole, ignoring Wyndham, struck at Boling- 
broke, are perhaps the finest specimens of vituperative 
oratory which have come down to us from times anterior 
to Burke. But the attempt failed ; the Act remained un- 
repealed. Parliament was shortly afterwards dissolved, 
and Walpole, with a majority slightly impaired, weathered 
the elections, and in the following January resumed office 
for another seven years. 

During the whole of the period of which we have been 
speaking, the period, that is to say, extending from the 
Parliament which met in January, 1728, to the Parliament 
which met in January, 1735, Bolingbroke was the soul 
and author of almost every movement on the part of the 
Opposition. It was Bolingbroke who pointed out in what 
way the affair of Gibraltar might be utilized. It was Bol- 
ingbroke who originated the outcry about Dunkirk. It 
was Bolingbroke who directed the attack on the Excise 
scheme. It was Bolingbroke who suggested the repeal of 
the Septennial Act. Popular report assigned to his dicta- 
tion the ablest of Wyndham's speeches. So notorious, 
indeed, was the influence exercised by him on the councils 
of the Opposition, that Walpole constantly taunted them 
with being liis mouthpieces, his creatures, and his tools. 
Nor was this all. With his pen he was indefatigable. 
Ills first contribution to the Craftsman appeared on the 
27th of January, 1727. It was entitled "The Vision of 
Camelick," and is, under the disguise of an Eastern fable, 
a virulent attack on the despotism of Walpole, on the com- 
plete subserviency of the King to his unprincipled favorite, 
and on the venality of electors. At the beginning of the 
summer of 1730 he produced a singularly luminous and 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 151 

powerful pamphlet — " The Case of Dunkh-lv: Considered." * 
In this pamphlet he discusses at length the negotiations 
relative to the demolition of that harbor; demonstrates how 
necessary it was to the interests of England that the stipu- 
lations made at Utrecht should be carried out; and not 
merely taunts the Ministry with criminal negligence in per- 
mitting the infringement of such stipulations, but attrib- 
utes their conduct to a base desire to play into the hands 
of France. With contemporary events these works ceased 
to interest; but between August, 1730, and June, 1731, 
there appeared in the Craftsman, under the signature of 
" Humphrey Oldcastle," a series of essays which have long 
survived the controversies which inspired them. These 
were the " Remarks on the History of England." Boling- 
broke here gives a bold and graphic sketch of English Con- 
stitutional history, from the Conquest to the meeting of 
the Long Parliament. In the course of his work, he ad- 
vances several ingenious theories which were not lost on 
Hume and Hallam : his occasional reflections are suggest- 
ive and happy, and his pages teem with those acute obser- 
vations which have, in the " Discorsi" of Machiavelli and in 
the "Pteflexions" of Montesquieu, delighted succeeding 
generations of thoughtful men. But it is not as serious 
contributions to political philosophy that these Essays 
were intended to be judged ; their didactic value was a 
value purely accidental. The immediate purpose with 
which they were written was not to trace the history of 
Constitutional government, but to convey satire under the 
form of analogue. Particular epochs, and particular inci- 
dents in the history of past times, become, in the hands of 
their skilful delineator, counterparts of the history of the 

* Reprinted in "A Collection of Political Tracts," published anony- 
mously in 1748. 



152 ESSAYS. 

present : the Court of the Plantagenets, of the Tudors, of 
the Stuarts, reflects the Court of the House of Hanover ; 
and the Ministers who invaded popular rights in the reign 
of Richard or Charles transform themselves into the Min- 
isters who are invading these rights in the reign of George 
n. In the person of Wolsey and Buckingham, for exam- 
ple, he paints and assails Walpole. In the person of Eliz- 
abeth Woodville he draws Queen Caroline ; in the person 
of Richard II. he depicts her husband. In his pictures of 
the reigns of Edward HI. and Elizabeth he satirizes by 
contrast, as in his pictures of the reign of Richard II. he 
satirizes directly, the character, conduct, and Court of 
George 11. The skill with which he contrives to convert 
the reign of Elizabeth into an analogue of the reign of 
Anne, and the reign of Elizabeth's contemptible successor 
into an analogue of the reigns of the two first Georges, is 
really wonderful. The virulence and audacity of these 
diatribes, which their author had the front to define as 
" a few inoffensive remarks on the nature of liberty and of 
faction," alarmed the Government, and were of immense 
service to the Opposition. Their sentiments delighted the 
vulgar, their inimitable style fascinated the polite. 

It was soon known that Bolingbroke was the author. 
The incidents of his public life were still fresh in the mem- 
ory of thousands, and, in the paper war which these Es- 
says excited, his character was very severely handled. But 
against his polemical skill, his impudence, and his mendac- 
ity truth was powerless. The juster the charges advanced, 
the more ridiculous they seemed to become. The strong- 
er the case against him, the more unanswerable appeared 
his apology. Examples of his unscrupulous dexterity in 
controversy are to be found in his "Twenty-fourth Let- 
ter " and in his " Final Answer to the CraftsmarCs Vindi- 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 153 

cation," a pamphlet in which ho reviews and defends those 
circumstances in his career which had justly exposed him 
to the taunts of his adversaries. In September of the fol- 
lowing year he wrote three papers on the Policy of the 
Athenians, in which he drew a series of ingenious parallels 
between portions of Greek and portions of English history, 
on the same principle and with the same objects as the 
"Remarks on English History."* 

The nation now began to show, by very unequivocal 
symptoms, that these writings had not been without ef- 
fect. The popularity of Walpole visibly declined. His 
foreign and home policy were sharply criticised. Many 
who had up to this tiuie pocketed their bribes and held 
their peace, grew moody and scrupulous. Young men 
talked republicanism, and old men grumbled. At last 
popular discontent became articulate. The tremendous 
storm, which convulsed the country during the period of 
the Excise Bill, gathered and burst. The Government tot- 
tered to its base, and before Walpole could recover him- 
self his indefatigable opponent was again in the field. 
The "Dissertation upon Parties," commencing in October, 
1733, and ending in December, 1734, is, with the exception 
of the " Letters of Junius," beyond question the finest sc- 
ries of compositions which the political controversies of 
the eighteenth century inspired. Nothing equal to them 
had ever appeared before, nothing superior to them has 
ever appeared since. Their diction is magnificent, their 
matter rich and various, their method admirable. Seldom 
have the baser passions caught with such exquisite skill 

* These papers constitute Nos. 324, 325, and 326 of the Crafts- 
man^ and have been reprinted in the " Political Tracts." We may 
here take the opportunity of obserring that the papers contributed 
by Bolingbroke to that periodical were marked " 0." 

^* 



154 ESSAYS. 

the accents of their nobler sisters; seldom has satire, even 
in verse, assumed a garb so splendid. In a series of nine- 
teen letters, preceded in their collected form by an ironical 
dedication to Walpole, he traces the history of the two 
great parties which, since the days of the Stuarts, had di- 
vided English politics ; points out how, on the accession of 
William III., those two parties ceased to represent princi- 
ples ; how, since then, they had degenerated into mere fac- 
tions ; and how these factions would, but for the arts of men 
whose interest it was to keep them alive, have long since 
been extinguished. The whole work, under the disguise 
of a patriotic protest against misgovernment, against stand- 
ing armies in time of peace, against corruption, against mis- 
appropriation of public money, against officious interfer- 
ence with foreign politics, is a malignant and ferocious 
attack on Walpole and on Walpole's coadjutors. But the 
spirit it breathes is so noble, the principles it advocates so 
exalted, that we seem, as we surrender ourselves to the 
charm of its eloquent rhetoric, to be listening to the voice 
of one not unworthy to be the prophet of Virtue and Lib- 
erty. The Dedication is superb. It is in the best vein of 
Chatham and Junius, but it is, in declamatory grandeur, su- 
perior to anything which has descended to us from Chat- 
ham, as it is, in polished invective, equal to anything which 
could be selected either from the Letters to Grafton or the 
Letters to Bedford. From a polemical point of view, the 
value of this work was inestimable. It not only dealt Wal- 
pole a series of blows which fell with fearful precision on 
those parts where he was most vulnerable, but it furnished 
his opponents with new elements of strength. The Oppo- 
sition was composed, as we have seen, of advanced Tories, 
of moderate Tories, of a few Jacobites, of a large and dis- 
contented clique of Whigs ; of bodies of men, that is to 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 155 

say, wliose political creeds were entirely at variance, and 
whose sole bond of union was hostility to Walpole. These 
malcontents were therefore perpetually torn with schisms. 
Their alliance was radically and essentially unnatural. They 
were friends by accident, they were enemies on principle. 
A common feud held them together, and mutual feuds 
kept them apart. In these differences lay the security of 
\Yalpole, and to compose these differences was one of the 
chief objects of Bolingbroke's political writings. Hence 
arose his anxiety to obliterate party prejudice, hence his 
tirades against faction, hence those magniticcnt doctrines 
which were first promulgated in the " Dissertation upon 
Parties," and afterwards developed in the " Patriot King," 
doctrines which constituted the creed of the so-called Pa- 
triots, and which, as we shall presently see, were destined 
to exercise no small influence on political opinion during 
several generations. 

But it is now time to contemplate Bolingbroke in another 
character. We enter his country-house at Dawley : the 
scene changes as if by magic ; we are in a different world. 
The restless and acrid controversialist is transformed into 
the most delightful of social companions. The opponent 
of Walpole disappears in the friend of Pope and Swift. 
The coadjutor of Pulteney and Amhurst is lost in the gen- 
erous and discriminating patron of wit and genius. We 
are no longer in the midst of men who have been indebted 
to history for a precarious existence in the annals of biog- 
raphy, but in the midst of men whose names are as famil- 
iar to us as the names of our own kindred. Tradition has, 
in truth, left us few pictures more charming than the life 
of Bolingbroke at Dawley. In this beautiful retreat, the 
site of which may still be discerned, he endeavored to per- 



156 ESSAYS. 

suade himself and his contemporaries that he had at last 
attained what the sages of antiquity pronounced to be the 
climax of human happiness; and, if happiness could con- 
sist in what is external to the mind of those who court it, 
Bolingbroke had assuredly every reason to congratulate 
liimself. lie divided his time between his studies, his 
friends, and the innocent recreations of country life. He 
planted and beautified his grounds, he shouldered a prong 
and assisted his haymakers. He subsisted on the plainest 
fare. He amused himself with covering his summer-houses, 
as he had done before at La Source, with texts from the 
Latin Classics, and, to keep up the illusion, he contracted 
with a painter to cover the walls of his entrance-hall with 
pictures of rural implements. His correspondence — and 
his correspondence at this period forms one of the most 
pleasing portions of our epistolary literature — is that of a 
man at peace with himself and at peace with fortune. So 
studiously has he concealed the political schemes in which 
lie was, as we have already seen, simultaneously engaged, 
that it would, we believe, be difficult to find in these let- 
ters a single hint either of his manoeuvres against Walpole, 
or even of his connection with the Craftsman. How close- 
ly he concealed his political writings is shown by the fact 
that Swift, in a letter to Pope, dated May 12, 1V35, did not 
know that Bolingbroke had written the " Dissertation upon 
Parties." It is, indeed, scarcely credible that, at a time 
when his philippics against the Government had arrived 
at their climax of intemperance and malignity, at a time 
when he was straining every nerve for a place on the Op- 
position benches, he could address Swift in a strain like 
this : 

" Wc are both in the decline of life, ray dear Dean ; we shall, of 
course, grow every year more indifferent to it and to the affairs and 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 157 

interests of a system out of which we are soon to go. The decay of 
passion strengthens philosophy, for passion may decay and stupidity 
not succeed. Is it a misfortune, think you, that I rise at this hour 
refreshed, serene, and cahn ? that the past, and even the present af- 
fairs of life, stand Hlce objects at a distance from me, where I can 
keep off the disagreeables so as not to be strongly affected by them, 
and from whence I can draw the others nearer to me." 

At Dawlcy Bolingbroke appears to have kept open house. 
On his arrival he liad at once hastened to renew his ac- 
quaintance, not only with those who had shared with him 
the responsibilities of pnblic life, but with those literary 
friends whose society was perhaps even more acceptable to 
him. Indifference to wit and genius had, in truth, never 
been among his faults. lie had been always ready, even 
when party strife was raging most violently, to forget po- 
litical differences in the nobler amenities of human inter- 
course. The generous hospitality, which he had before 
extended to Prior and Philipps, was now extended to 
those eminent men whose genius has cast a halo round the 
annals of the two first Georges. At Dawley, Arbuthnot 
forgot his ill - health and his onerous duties. There ho 
poured out in careless discourse the fine wit, the delicate 
humor, the learning, the mellow wisdom, which have, in 
his correspondence and satires, been the delight of thou- 
sands. There Gay's artless laugh rang loudest. Hither, in 
1726, with the manuscript of "Gulliver's Travels" in his 
pocket, came Swift ; and hither, in the autumn of the same 
year, arrived a more illustrious guest. At Dawley Voltaire 
was, during his long sojourn among us, a frequent visitor. 
In Bolingbroke's library he studied our poetry, our science, 
and our philosophy, revised the proof-sheets of the " Hen- 
riade," sketched the finest of his tragedies, and learned to 
write our language with purity and vigor. In the draw- 



158 ESSAYS. 

ing-room at Dawley he was introduced to a society not 
less brilliant than he had been accustomed to see assembled 
in the Temple, for he was Bolingbroke's visitor during 
those happy months in which for the last time Pope, Swift, 
Arbuthnot, and Gay met together under the same roof. 
Of Voltaire's more important obligations to his English 
patron we have already spohen. lie had himself so lively 
a sense of what ho owed to the philosopher of La Source 
and Dawley, that he originally intended to inscribe the 
" Henriade " to him. This intention was never carried out ; 
but on his return to Paris he dedicated to him, in very flat- 
tering terms, one of the most spirited of his tragedies. 

But there was another friendship cemented at Dawley, 
the effects of which will be appreciated as long as British 
literature shall endure. The relations between Bolingbroke 
and Pope form one of the most interesting episodes in the 
literary history of the eighteenth century. They appear 
to have been brought together for the first time by Swift, 
either in the winter of 1713 or in the spring of 1714. 
They were apparently on intimate terms when Bolingbroke 
left England in 1715. On his return, in 1723, their ac- 
quaintance was renewed. When Bolingbroke, in the March 
of 1725, established himself at Dawley, the two friends 
became almost inseparable. The genius of Pope had at 
that time arrived at maturity. His intellectual energy was 
in its fullest vigor. The "Essay on Criticism" and the 
"Rape of the Lock" had placed him at the head of living 
English poets. The proceeds of his " Homer" had put 
him beyond the reach of pecuniary embarrassment, and 
had thus, by removing the most galling of all obstacles, 
enabled him to compete for the most splendid of all prizes, 
lie was now busy with his "Miscellanies;" the "Miscella- 
nies" led to the "Dunciad," and the "Dunciad" involved 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 159 

him in fends which nnhinged his mind if they did not 
dwarf his powers. His temper, always irritable, grew 
every day more acrimonions. The baser emotions of his 
sensitive nature were in a continual state of malignant ac- 
tivity. To revenge himself on a rabble of scribblers, whose 
opinions were not worth the quills which inscribed them, 
and who, but for him, would have sunk below the sound- 
ings of antiquarianism, became the serious business of his 
life. His satire loaded with ephemeral scandal and noisome 
with filth, degenerated, in spite of its brilliant execution, 
into a mere Grub-street Chronicle. Indeed, it seemed at 
one time not unlikely that the most popular poet of the 
eighteenth century would encounter the fate of Regnier 
and Churchill. From this degradation he was rescued by 
Bolingbroke. By Bolingbroke his genius was directed to 
nobler aims. By Bolingbroke his poetry was inspired 
with loftier themes. It was he who raised him above the 
passions of the hour, and encouraged him to aspire to a 
place beside Lucretius and Horace. It was he who sketched 
the plan of that magnificent work, of which the " Essay on 
Man," the " Moral Essays," and the fourth book of the 
" Dunciad " are only fragments — a work which would, in 
all probability, had the health and energy of Pope been 
equal to the task, have been the finest didactic poem in the 
world. 

The exact extent of Pope's obligations to Bolingbroke 
it is now impossible to ascertain. They were, in all likeli- 
hood, more considerable than any scrutiny, however mi- 
nute, of what remains of the writings and correspondence 
of the two friends would reveal. For the influence which 
Bolingbroke exercised on his contemporaries was, as wc 
have already observed in speaking, of his relations with 
Voltaire, exercised for the most part, like that of the phi- 



160 ESSAYS. 

losophers of old, iu conversation. From the very first, the 
attitude of Pope towards Lis brilliant companion was that 
of a reverent disciple. From the very first, Bolingbroke's 
extraordinary powers of expression, his fiery energy, his 
haughty and aspiring spirit, his robust and capacious intel- 
lect, his wide and varied acquaintance both with the world 
of books and the world of men, his romantic history, his 
singularly fascinating manners, his magnificent presence, 
cast a spell over the delicate and sensitive poet. The first 
fruit of their intimacy was the "Essay on Man." That 
Pope owed much of the subject-matter of this poem to 
Bolingbroke is notorious. If we are to believe Lord Batli- 
urst, he owed all. "Lord Bathurst," says Joseph Warton, 
" repeatedly assured me that he had read the whole scheme 
of the Essay in the handwriting of Bolingbroke, and drawn 
up in a series of propositions which Pope was to versify 
and illustrate." It is possible that this document may 
have perished among the papers which were, we know, 
destroyed by Pope a few days before his death. Mr. Mark 
Pattison, in his "Introduction to the Essay on Man," is in- 
clined to identify the work to which Bathurst alluded with 
the manuscript of the "Fragments" or "Minutes of Es- 
says," which occupy the fifth quarto volume of Boling- 
broke's collected Avorks. This is not probable. For we 
learn from a letter in Boswell's "Johnson,"* that Bathurst 
made the same statement on another occasion, in the pres- 
ence of Mallet, and that Mallet himself drew attention to 
it as a singularly interesting piece of information which 
was altogether new to him. Now, as Mallet was the edi- 
tor of Bolingbroke's works, and had himself printed these 
Minutes from Bolingbroke's own manuscript, it is clear 

* See Boswell's " Life of Johnson," Croker's One Volume Edition, 
p. 635. 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. IGl 

that the document to wbicli Bathiirst alluded could not 
have been identical with documents with which Mallet 
must of necessity have been familiar. The connection of 
the Minutes with the Essay — and the Minutes had, it 
should be remembered, been printed ten years before this 
conversation was held — is, moreover, so obvious that Bath- 
urst, interested in everything that concerned Pope, could 
scarcely have failed to inspect them, or at all events to have 
been apprised of their contents. Had they been identi- 
cal with the manuscript which he had seen on Pope's 
desk, the circumstance must at once have struck him, and 
he would have hastened to corroborate his assertion by 
pointing to the proof. Pope may therefore have received 
more assistance from Bolino-broke than the extant writinojs 
of Bolingbroke indicate. However this may he] the Min- 
utes suffice to show that Pope received from his friend by 
far the greater portion of the material of the poem — the 
general outline, the main propositions, the reasoning by 
which these propositions are established, the ethics, the 
philosophy, several of the illustrations. Indeed he some- 
times follows his master so closely that he copies his very 
words and phrases.* Bolingbroke was indefatigable in 

* It is somewhat surprising that none of the commentators on the 
" Essay on Man " should have taken the trouble to point out to what 
extent Pope has availed himself of the " Minutes." The parallel pas- 
sages, for example, collected by Warton and Wakefield, and repro- 
duced by Mr. Elwin, by no means exhaust Pope's obligations. The 
germ, indeed, of almost every doctrine and of almost every idea in the 
Essay, more or less developed, will, on careful inspection, be found in 
them. Let the student turn, for example, to the following references, 
and compare them with the corresponding passages, which will at 
once suggest themselves, in Pope's poem. " Bolingbroke," vol. iii., 
pp. 384, 400, 401 ; vol. iv., pp. 1, 2, 3, 10, 11, 51-53, 159, 173, 316, 
320, 324, 326, 327, 329, 366, 379, 388, 389, 391, 398 ; vol. v., pp. 9, 36, 



162 ESSAYS. 

stimulating Pope's genius. He was always at his side. 
lie covered reams of paper with disquisitions intended for 
his guidance. He directed his studies ; he held intermina- 
ble conversations with him. While the " Essay on Man " 
was still incomplete, he hurried him on to the "Moral Es- 
says," and while the " Moral Essays " were in progress he 
suggested the " Imitations of Horace." These attentions 
Pope returned with a devotion half pathetic, half ludicrous. 
The genius of his friend he had long regarded with super- 
stitious awe. This awe, unimpaired by nearer communion, 
was now mingled with feelings of gratitude and friendship. 
His mind, naturally little prone either to credulity or illu- 
sion, became the prey of both. His reason, on ordinary 
occasions shrewd and penetrating, was completely subju- 

37,49, 55,94,95, 115. Tlicpassagesdescribing the state of Nature; the 
origin of political society; the origin of civil society; of government ; 
of religion; of the corruption of religion (" Essay," Epistle iii., pp.l46- 
318) ; the harmony of the universe and the scale of being (Epistle i., 
pp. 234-294) ; man's place in the creation (Epistle i., pp. 33-130); how- 
man's imperfections are necessary for his happiness (Epistle i., pp. 
190-232); the mutual dependence of men on each other (Epistle ii,, 
pp. 240-2G0, and Epistle iii., pp. 308-318) ; the operation of self-love 
and reason (Epistle ii., pp. 53-100) ; of reason and instinct (Epistle 
iii., pp. 79-108) ; God's impartial care for his creatures (Epistle iii., 
pp. 21-48) ; the nature of human happiness (Epistle iv., pp. 77-372) 
— are all from Bolingbroke's sketches or suggestions. We cannot 
stop to enter further into this most interesting question, but we may 
notice that the famous quatrain which ends "And showed a Newton 
as we show an ape," was derived not from Palingenius, as all the com- 
mentators suppose, but from Bolingbroke. " Superior beings who look 
down on our intellectual system will not find, I persuade myself, s-o 
great a difference between a gascon petit -maitre and a monkey, 
whatever partiality we may have for our own species." — " Philosoph- 
ical Works," vol. iv., p. 3. Bolingbroke, it may be added, appears to 
have derived it, in his turn, from a saying attributed to Heraclitus. 
See Plato's " Hippias Major," marg., p. 289. 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 163 

gated. When he spoke of Bolingbroke, it was by no means 
unusual with him to employ language which ordinary men 
would never dream of applying to any but the Supreme 
Being. For the writings of his friend he predicted a splen- 
did immortality. Indeed he observed more than once that 
his own title to a place in the memory of the world found 
its best security in his association with his patron. " My 
verses," he writes in one of his letters to Bolingbroke, "in- 
terspersed here and there in the noble work which you ad- 
dress to me, will have the same honor done them as those 
of Ennius in the philosophical treatises of Tully." So 
complete, indeed, was the ascendency which Bolingbroke 
had gained over him, that it would be difficult to find ten 
consecutive pages in his correspondence and poetry, be- 
tween 1729 and 1744, in which a discerning eye could not 
detect traces of Bolingbroke's influence. 

In the spring of 1735, to the surprise of all his friends, 
Bolingbroke suddenly quitted England. Ilis motives for 
taking this step are involved in great obscurity. Whatever 
they may have been, it seems pretty clear that they were 
never explained to the satisfaction of those who were most 
intimate with him. It was conjectured by some that he 
was again in communication with the Pretender. It was 
conjectured by others that he had during his residence at 
Dawley been intriguing with foreign Ministers; that these 
intrigues, having come to the ears of the Government, had 
furnished them with a handle against the Opposition, and 
that the leaders of the Opposition had in consequence sug- 
gested the propriety of his ceasing to act with them. 
Griinoard is inclined to think that he had received a secret 
order from the King to leave the country."^* Coxe and 

* Essai Historique prefixed to the " Lettres Historiques, "vol. i., 
p. 160. 



164 ESSAYS. 

M. Remusat attributed his exile to Walpole, who had, they 
make no doubt, obtained conclusive evidence of treasona- 
ble conduct. From his own correspondence all that can 
be gathered is this, that he did not leave England — we are 
quoting his own words — till some schemes were on the loom 
which made him one too many even to his most intimate 
associates; that he considered he had been treated with 
disingenuousness and ingratitude, that he had no longer 
any opportunity of being useful to his friends and his coun- 
try, and that he had had some misunderstanding with Pulte- 
ney. " My part," he wrote to Wyndham, " is over, and 
he who remains on the stage after his part is over deserves 
to be hissed off." Our own impression is that he perplexed 
with mystery what really admits of a very simple inter- 
pretation. In leaving England he wished to figure as a 
patriot-martyr, voluntarily departing into honorable exile. 
His real motives were, we firmly believe, baffled ambition, 
ill-health, and pecuniary embarrassment. He was weary, 
he was disappointed. The results of the general election 
had just proved that he had nothing to expect from popu- 
lar favor. The retirement of Lady Suffolk had recently 
deprived him of his only hope at Court. The Whig sec- 
tion of the Opposition were, in spite of his great services, 
regarding him with marked disfavor. lie had recently 
brought down upon them two scathing philippics. Indeed, 
Pulteney had frankly told him that his presence served 
rather to injure than to benefit the common cause. Nor 
was this all. llis expenditure at Dawley far exceeded his 
income. He was already involved in debt, and had been 
reduced to the ruinous expedient of having recourse to 
usurers, and to the disagreeable necessity of appealing to 
private friends. To the Marquis de Matignon, for example, 
he owed two thousand pounds, which had been advanced 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 165 

without security. That Pultcney attributed his departure 
to pecuniary difficulties is certain. Writing* to Swift in 
November, 1*735, ho says: *'You inquire after Boling- 
broke, and when he will return from France. If he had 
listened to your admonitions and chidings about economy, 
he need never have gone there." In addition to this, his 
wife's health was bad, and his own was breaking, and a 
change to a milder climate was desirable. Such is, we 
venture to think, the solution of what Mr. Croker used to 
say was the most difficult problem in Bolingbroke's biog- 
raphy. 

Angry with the Government, angry with the Opposition, 
Bolingbroke now resolved to take no further share in the 
controversies which were raging between them. He had, 
he said, fulfilled his duty ; he had borne his share in the 
last struggle which would in all probability be made to 
preserve the Constitution ; he feared nothing from those 
he had opposed ; he asked nothing from those he had 
served. Till the end of the spring he was in Paris ; at 
the beginning of the autumn we find him settled at Chan- 
taloup, in Touraine. This delicious retreat had, Saint- 
Simon tells us, been built by Aubigny, the favorite of the 
Princess Orsini, who had herself superintended its erec- 
tion. Here Bolingbroke at last found what he had during 
so many troubled years been affecting to seek. At Mar- 
cilly his studies were interrupted and his repose disturbed 
by obloquy. At La Source he had been on the rack of 
expectancy ; at Dawley his life had been the prey of fierce 
extremes. Here there was little to tempt him from his 
books and his dogs. The firm alliance between Fleury 
and Walpole forbade any cabals with the Cabinet of Ver- 
sailles. The Stuarts were no longer in France; his old 
allies were impotent or dead. 



166 ESSAYS. 

Under these favorable circumstances he determined to 
dedicate the rest of his Hfe to the completion of two works, 
which he had long been meditating, and on which his fame 
was to rest. The first was to be a work which should es- 
tablish metaphysical science on an entirely new basis. It 
was to embody in a regular system what he had hitherto 
communicated only in detached fragments. It was to de- 
fine the limits of the Knowable, to strip metaphysics of 
jargon and empiricism, and to make them useful by mak- 
ing them intelligible. The other was to be a History of 
Europe, from the Treaty of the Pyrenees to the conclusion 
of the negotiations at Utrecht. Neither design was car- 
ried out; portions of both survive. His time was, how- 
ever, well employed, for he produced during this period of 
his life the most popular of his writings. At the begin- 
ning of the winter of 1735 he began the "Letters on the 
Study of History." These Letters, eight in number, were 
addressed to Lord Cornbury, a young nobleman whose un- 
blemished character and faultless taste elicited the most 
exquisite compliment which Pope ever paid. The work 
divides itself into two parts. The first five Letters point 
out that history, to be studied to advantage, must be stud- 
ied philosophically ; that its utility lies not, as pedants and 
antiquaries suppose, in the investigation of details and par- 
( ticulars, but in the lessons which it teaches, the hints which 
it gives. Its value is a practical value. It should enable 
us to anticipate action. It should teach us to profit from 
experiment. It should illustrate historical phenomena in 
their ultimate effects, and in their mutual relations ; for in 
the brief span of our individual existence we can view 
events only in course of evolution, incomplete, isolated. 
Nothing can be more erroneous than to suppose that the 
chief end of historical study is to acquire information. Its 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 167 

true end is to mould and temper tbe character and the in- 
tellect. He then discusses the credibility of the early his- 
tory of the Greeks and the Jews, concludes that the author- 
ities for both are equally untrustworthy, and hurries on, 
after some desultory remarks on the falsification of testi- 
mony, to treat of the annalists of later times. The diction 
of these five Letters is copious and splendid. They abound 
in precepts to which the student of history may still turn 
with profit, and they are enriched with observations, al- 
ways lively, often suggestive, and sometimes new. Their 
worst fault is a tendency to redundancy and vagueness, 
tbeir principal deficiency lack of learning, their radical vice 
superficiality. In the last three Letters he sketches the 
course of events in Europe between the beginning of .the 
sixteenth century and the end of x\nne's reign. The eighth 
is an elaborate defence of the Treaty of Utrecht, and is 
composed with extraordinary energy and eloquence. It 
bears, indeed, little resemblance to a letter. It is a mag- 
nificent harangue, instinct with fire and passion. Excise a 
few paragraphs, substitute My Lords for My Lord, and the 
reader is perusing a masterpiece of parliamentary oratory. 
He has before him the relic for which Pitt and Brougham 
would have sacrificed the lost books of Livy ; he has before 
him in everything but in title the speech of Bolingbroke. 
No one who peruses the work with any care could, we 
think, doubt this, and assuredly no one after perusing it 
would say that when tradition placed Bolingbroke at the 
head of contemporary orators tradition erred in its esti- 
mate of his powers. In our opinion it is, read as a speech, 
superior to any speech which has come down to us from 
those times. 

While he was still busy with these works he addressed 
to his friend Lord Bathurst the "Letter ou the true Use 



168 ESSAYS. 

of Study and Retirement," a short treatise on the model 
of Seneca when Seneca is most tedious — a treatise in which 
all that is new is false and all that is true is trite. 

Of a very different character was the "Letter on the 
Spirit of Patriotism." This majestic declamation was in- 
scribed to Lord Lyttelton, who had recently become a con- 
spicuous figure at Leicester House, and was the rising hope 
of that section of the Opposition whose political creed 
had been learned from the Craftsman. In none of his 
works are the peculiar beauties of Bolingbroke's diction 
more strikingly displayed. In none of his works do the 
graces of rhetoric and the graces of colloquy blend in more 
exquisite union. The passage in which he points out the 
responsibilities entailed on all who have inherited the right 
to a place in the councils of their country has often been 
deservedly admired. Not less spirited and brilliant is the 
picture of St. Stephen's under Walpole ; and we are not 
sure that it would be possible to select from the pages of 
Burke anything finer than the dissertation on Eloquence. 

Meanwhile the pleasures of retirement were beginning 
to pall on him. lie continued, indeed, to assure his friends 
that, dead to the world, he was dead to all that concerned 
it ; but his friends soon discovered that his sublime indif- 
ference coexisted with the keenest curiosity about public 
affairs. It was observed that though nothing was worth 
his attention nothing escaped it ; and that though he con- 
tinued to indulge in lofty jargon about Cleanthes and Zeno, 
he was in constant communication with the malcontents of 
Leicester House. The truth is, that the passion which had 
during forty years tortured his life still burned as fiercely 
as ever. Philosophy had left him where it found him ; 
but political ambition had never for one instant relaxed its 
grasp. It had been his tyrant at twenty ; it was destined 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 169 

to be liis tyrant at seventy; it had filled his middle age 
with unrest and unbappiness; it was to fill bis old age 
with bitterness and disappointment. At the end of Jane, 
1738, be was in England. His hopes were high. His 
prospects bad never looked so promising since the spring 
of 1V23. The death of the Queen bad removed one of 
the most influential and implacable of bis opponents. The 
popularity of AValpole was waning. A portentous crisis 
in European affairs was approaching. The health of the 
King was precarious. The heir-apparent, at open war with 
bis father and with bis father's Ministers, was at the bead 
of the Opposition. Every week that young and ardent 
band, on whose minds the doctrines of the " Dissertation 
on Parties" had made a deep impression, were gaining 
strength. Of these enthusiasts there was, with the excep- 
tion of Pitt, scarcely any one who did at this time not re- 
gard Bolingbroke with superstitious reverence. The ma- 
jority of them were, indeed, bis acknowledged disciples. 
He was not, it is true, on cordial terms either with Pulteney 
or Carteret ; but no man stood bigber in the favor of the 
Prince of Wales, and on the Prince of Wales all eyes were 
now turning with eager interest. 

It would, we believe, be impossible to find in the writ- 
ings of those who have illustrated the private life of princes, 
from Suetonius to Mr. Greville, a character so completely 
despicable as that of Frederick Lewis. One who bad for 
many years observed him narrowly, has told us that be 
was unable to detect the shadow of a virtue in him. His 
kindred regarded him with horror and disgust. He bad 
even exhausted the forbearance and long-suffering of ma- 
ternal love, and the fact that he had survived infancy was 
considered by both his parents to be the greatest calamity 
which bad ever befallen them. Assuredly no man ob- 



170 ESSAYS. 

served the infirmities of bis fellow-creatures with a more 
indulgent eye than the elder Walpole; but Walpole could 
never speak of Frederick without a torrent of invectives. 
" lie was," he said, " a poor, feeble, irresolute, false, lying, 
dishonest, contemptible wretch." In temper he belonged 
to that large class who are governed entirely by impulse, 
men of weak judgment and strong sensibilities. But with 
all the defects, he had none of the virtues which such peo- 
ple frequently display. The evil in his nature was, if we 
are to credit Ilervey, without alloy. He exhibited a com- 
bination of vices such as rarely meet in the same person, 
and it was observed that in Frederick every vice assumed 
its most odious shape. lie was a wastrel without a spark 
of generosity,* and a libertine without a grain of senti- 
ment. When anger possessed him, its effect was not to 
produce the emotions which such a passion usually pro- 
duces in our sex, but to excite emotions similar to those 
which a slight awakes in the breast of a superannuated 
coquette. He became charged with petty spite. He watch- 
ed with patient malice for every opportunity of ignoble 
retaliation. His face wore smiles, his tongue dropped 
venom. In mendacity, poltroonery, and dirtiness he was 
not excelled either by his late secretary Bubb Dodington, 
or by his recent undcr-sccretary Mallet. Even that part of 
his conduct in which traces of better things would seem at 
first sight to be discernible, will be found on nearer inspec- 
tion to be of the same texture with the rest. He patronized 
literature because his father and his father's Minister de- 
spised it ; he became a Patriot to fill his pockets ; he sup- 
ported popular liberty to vex his family. Ambition in its 
nobler forms was unintelligible to him. Of any capacity 

* Horace Walpole (" Memoirs of George II.," vol. i., p. 11) tells us 
that "generosity was his best quality." Could contempt go further? 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. in 

for the duties of public life he never, so far as we can dis- 
cover, evinced a single symptom. His mind was jejune 
and feeble, his parts beneatli contempt. Indeed, both 
nature and education had done their best to make this 
unhappy youth an object of pity to those who wished him 
well, and a subject for perpetual rejoicing to those who 
wished him ill. 

Such was Frederick as he appeared to impartial observ- 
ers, but such was not the Frederick of Bolingbroke and the 
Patriots. By them he was held up to public veneration as 
a being without blemish, by them he was proclaimed to be 
the Messias of a political millennium. Under his wise and 
beneficent sway, corruption, misgovernment, and faction 
were to disappear: in his person an ideal ruler was to be 
found at the head of an ideal Ministry ; for the splendor 
of his character would be reflected on all who came in con- 
tact with him. Every week his levee at Norfolk House 
became more crowded ; every day his vanity and insolence 
became more outrageous. At last his head was completely 
turned. He set his father openly at defiance. He ap- 
pealed to the people. All this was the work of Boling- 
broke. From the very first he had labored to widen the 
breach between Frederick and the King. It was he, in- 
deed, who suggested the measure which made their breach 
public ; it was he who now labored to make it irreparable. 
And his policy was obvious. It was to detach Frederick 
not only from Walpole and from Wal pole's adherents, but 
from that section of the Opposition which was led by Pulte- 
ney and Carteret. If, on the event of the King's death, 
Pulteney and Carteret stood first in the estimation of the 
successor to the throne, Bolingbroke had, as he well knew, 
nothing to gain, for both those statesmen had long regarded 
him rather as a rival than as an ally. But if at that crisis 



112 ^ ESSAYS. 

lie bad succeeded in gaining the ascendency over Frederick, 
as he had ah'eady gained the ascendency over Frederick's 
counsellors, it required little sagacity to foretell that in a 
few weeks he would in all probability be at the head of 
affairs. He took care, therefore, to improve every advan- 
tage. He courted the Prince with unvaried assiduity, both 
in public and private. He descended to the grossest adu- 
lation. Indeed, his language and his conduct frequently 
bordered on the abject. To this period in his career is to 
be assigned the composition of the " Patriot King," a work 
written with the threefold purpose of exalting himself in 
the eyes of his young master, of making the Government 
odious in the eyes of the nation, and of furnishing the Pa- 
triots with a war-cry and a gospel. 

Of all Bolingbroke's writings this treatise was the most 
popular. It was, on its publication in 1749, perused with 
avidity by readers of every class. Poets versified its senti- 
ments and reflected its spirit. Allusions to it abound in 
the light literature of those times. On oratory and jour- 
nalism its effect was in some degree similar to that which 
the Romance of Lyly had, a hundred and seventy years be- 
fore, produced on prose diction during the latter years of 
Elizabeth. It created a new and peculiar dialect. To par- 
ley patriotism became an accomplishment as fashionable 
in political circles between 1749 and 1760 as to parley 
Euphuism had been in the society which surrounded the 
Great Queen between 1580 and 1600. The public ear 
was wearied with echoes of Bolingbroke's stately rhetoric. 
Scarcely a week passed without witnessing the appearance 
of some pamphlet in which his mannerisms, both of tone 
and expression, were copied with ludicrous fidelity. But 
it was not on style only that its influence was apparent. 
For some years it formed the manual of a large body of 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 173 

enthusiasts. From its pages George III. derived the arti- 
cles of his political creed. On its precepts Bute modelled 
his conduct. It called into being the faction known to 
our fathers as the King's Friends. It undoubtedly con- 
tributed, and contributed in no small degree, to bring about 
that great revolution which transformed the Toryism of 
Filmer and Rochester into the Toryism of Johnson and 
Pitt.* 

If this famous essay be regarded as a serious attempt to 
provide a remedy for the distempers under which the State 
was laboring, it is scarcely worth a moment's consideration. 
It is mere babble. Its proposals arc too ridiculous to be 
discussed, its arguments too childish to be refuted. Where 
had the sublime and perfect being, whom Bolingbroke pro- 
poses to invest with sovereignty, any counterpart in human 
experience? IIow is the power of the Crown to be at once 
absolute in practice and limited in theory? How can Par- 
liamentary Government possibly exist without parties, and 

* It is curious to observe how exactly the political creed of John- 
son coincides with the doctrines preached by Bolingbroke. "He as- 
serted," writes Dr. Maxwell, in an account of some conversations he 
held with Johnson in 1770, " the legal and salutary prerogatives of 
the Crown, while he no less respected the Constitutional liberties of 
the people : Whiggism at the time of the Revolution, he said, was ac- 
companied by certain principles : but latterly, as a mere party dis- 
tinction under Walpole and the Pelhams, was no better than the pol- 
itics of stock-Jobbers and the i-eligion of infidels. He detested the 
idea of governing by parliamentary corruption, and asserted that a 
Prince steadily and conspicuously pursuing the interests of his peo- 
ple could not fail of parliamentary concurrence. A Prince of ability 
might and should be the directing soul and spirit of his own Admin- 
istration ; in short, his own Minister, and not the mere head of a par- 
ty ; and then, and not till then, would the royal dignity be respected," 
etc. See the whole passage, Croker's " Boswell," royal octavo edition, 
p. 216. 



174 ESSAYS. 

when did parties ever listen to the voice of wisdom when 
wisdom opposed interest? Is it within the bounds of cred- 
ibility that a king, who is potentially an absolute monarch, 
will consent to consider himself absolute only so long as 
he acts with the approbation of the national council, and 
that the moment the national council pronounces him to 
be guilty of error, he will confess that his prerogative is 
limited ? How is the narrow spirit of party to transform 
itself into a diffusive spirit of public benevolence? These 
absurdities become, if possible, the more preposterous when 
we remember that the ruler contemplated by Bolingbroke 
was no other than his miserable disciple, Frederick Lewis 
— the more shameless when we remember that he had him- 
self been the first to acknowledge that in a Constitution 
like ours the extinction of party would involve the extinc- 
tion of popular liberty — the more monstrous when we 
know that he was at heart as cynical in his estimate of 
humanity as Swift and La Rochefoucault. 

But if, as a didactic treatise, the " Patriot King " is a 
tissue of absurdities, as a party pamphlet it is a master- 
piece. No flattery was, as Bolingbroke well knew, too 
gross for Frederick. No theories were too visionary for 
those hot-headed and inexperienced youths who were in 
the van of the Patriots, and to those fanatics Bolingbroke 
was particularly addressing himself. This was not, how- 
ever, his only aim. Much of the work is, like the Utopia 
of More, satire under the guise of didactic fiction. The 
picture of Bolingbroke's political millennium is an oblique 
and powerful attack on Walpole's foreign and domestic 
policy. In depicting the character of his ideal monarch, 
he ridicules by implication the character of the reigning 
monarch. In elevating Frederick into a demigod, he de- 
grades George into a dotard, and Walpole into a scheming 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 115 

knave ; every allusion wliicli reflects honor on Norfolk 
House is so contrived as to reflect infamy on tlic Court. 
Every reform which is to mark the new dispensation brands 
by allusion some abuse in the old. On the composition of 
the "Patriot King," Bolingbroke took more pains than 
was usual with him. It is perhaps, in point of execution, 
his most finished work. But style, though it will do much 
for a writer, will not do everything. Indeed, Bolingbroke's 
splendid diction frequently serves to exhibit in strong re- 
lief the crudity and shallowness of his matter, as jewels set 
off deformity. To the " Patriot King " he afterwards ap- 
pended a "Dissertation on the State of Parties at the Ac- 
cession of George I.," and this dissertation, if we except 
the unfinished "Reflections on the Present State of the 
Nation," written a few months afterwards, concludes his 
political writings. 

He had now attained the object for which he had, dur- 
ing fourteen years, been incessantly laboring. The Crafts- 
man had done its work. Bolingbroke had at last succeeded 
in making his enemy odious in every city and in every 
hamlet in Britain. He could hear the cries which he had 
set up — cries against corruption, cries against Ministerial 
tyranny and Royal impotence, cries against ignoble com- 
promises with foreign powers, cries against standing ar- 
mies, cries against the exportation of English wool, against 
Septennial Parliaments — echoing, savagely emphasized, 
from the lips of thousands. He had at last the satisfac- 
tion of seeing the Government tottering to its fall, the na- 
tion blind with fury, clamoring for war, clamoring for re- 
form, clamoring for everything which could embarrass its 
rulers. He could see that the Patriots were now pressing 
onward to certain victory. 

Before leaving England, r.t the beginning of the spring 



116 ESSAYS. 

of 1739, for his chateau at Argeville, ho had suggested the 
famous secession of the Opposition which followed the de- 
bate on the convention with Spain, and during the next 
two years he appears to have been regularly consulted by 
Wyndham and by Wyndhara's coadjutors. He affected, 
indeed, to be absorbed in metaphysics and history, but ev- 
ery page of his correspondence proves with what keenness 
and anxiety he was following the course of events in Eng- 
land. In February, 1742, the crash came. The Opposi- 
tion triumphed. Walpole sent in his resignation, and all 
was anarchy. But Bolingbroke was again destined to be 
the sport of Fortune. He arrived in London just in time 
to find his worst fears realized, Carteret and Pulteney in 
coalition with Newcastle and Hardwicke, the prospects of 
the Patriots completely overcast, the Tories abandoned by 
their treacherous allies, and the Prince of Wales half rec- 
onciled with the King. So died his last hope. He had 
now, in his own melancholy phrase, to swallow down the 
dregs of life as calmly as he could ; and little, indeed, but 
the dregs were left. 

What remains to be told may be told in a few words. 
The death of his father relieved him from pecuniary em- 
barrassment, and enabled him to settle down in compara- 
tive comfort at Battersea. But the infirmities of age, ag- 
gravated, perhaps, by early excesses, soon weighed heavily 
upon him. Every year found him more solitary. Of that 
brilliant society which had gathered round him at Dawley 
and at Twickenham scarcely one survived: Congreve, Gay, 
Arbuthnot, Lansdowne, all were gone. Swift was fast sink- 
ing into imbecility; Wyndham was no more. In May, 
1744, he was summoned to Twickenham to weep over the 
wreck of that noble genius which had so often been dedi- 
cated to his glory, to close the eyes which for thirty years 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. Ill 

had never rested on him without veneration and love. 
And well, indeed, had it been if on that sad day the world 
had been called to mourn the master as well as the disci- 
ple. We should then have been spared one of the most 
melancholy incidents in literary annals. It is shocking to 
find that there are not wanting writers who attempt to jus- 
tify Bolingbroke's subsequent conduct with regard to Pope. 
In our opinion, his conduct admits of no extenuation — in 
our opinion, a man of honor would never, even in self- 
defence and under the strongest provocation, have been 
guilty of such atrocity. The facts — and let the facts 
speak for themselves — are simply these : On the comple- 
tion of the "Patriot King," Bolingbroke had forwarded 
the manuscript to Pope, requesting him to have a few cop- 
ies printed, with a view to distributing them among pri- 
vate friends. A limited number of copies were according- 
ly printed and circulated ; and so for a time the matter 
rested. But on the death of Pope it was discovered that, 
in addition to the copies for which he had accounted, he 
had ordered the printer to strike off fifteen hundred more. 
Of this, however, he had said nothing to Bolingbroke. 
That Pope, in thus acting, acted with disingenuousness 
must be admitted, but his disingenuousness on this occa- 
sion originated, we are convinced, from motives very cred- 
itable to him. It was notorious that he entertained exag- 
gerated notions of Bolingbroke's merits as a writer. It is 
notorious that in conversation he frequently commented 
on his friend's indifference to literary distinction. In his 
letters he was constantly reminding him of the duties he 
owed both to contemporaries and to future ages. He had, 
for example, recently appealed to him in emphatic terms 
to publish both the " Essay on the Spirit of Patriotism " 
and the " Patriot King," but in vain. Afraid, therefore, 

8* 



178 ESSAYS. 

that the precious treatise thus intrusted to him might, ei- 
ther by some sudden caprice on the part of the author, 
or by some carelessness on the part of the few who were 
privileged to possess it, be lost to the world, he determined 
to render the chance of such a catastrophe as remote as 
possible. He resolved to deal with Bolingbroke as Yarius 
and Tucca dealt with Virgil — to save him in his own de- 
spite. Hence the surreptitious impression. It is remark- 
able that even to so ill-natured an observer as Horace Wal- 
polc, Pope's conduct at once presented itself in this light. 
Pope may, it is true, have acted in the mere wantonness of 
that spirit of trickery which entered so largely into his 
dealings with his fellow -men. But whatever may have 
been his object, it is perfectly clear now, and it must have 
been perfectly clear then, that he had no intention either 
of injuring Bolingbroke or of benefiting himself. Assum- 
ing, however, for a moment the existence of some less cred- 
itable motive, does the grave afford no immunity from in- 
sult? Was a single equivocal action sufficient to outweigh 
the devotion of a whole life? Had Bolingbroke no ten- 
derness for the memory of one whose friendship had, for 
nearly a quarter of a century, been his chief solace in oblo- 
quy and misfortune, who had loved him with a love rarely 
found to exist between man and man, whose genius had 
elevated him above Memmius and Maecenas, on whose dy- 
ing face his tears had fallen ? It is lamentable to be 
obliged to add that the motives which prompted Boling- 
broke's libel were almost as derogatory to him as the libel 
itself. He had been annoyed at Pope's intimacy with 
Warburton. He had been still more irritated when he 
learned that Pope liad appointed Warburton his editor. 
While this was rankling in his mind, the discovery relat- 
ing to the "Patriot King" was made. On Pope's copy 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 179 

being inspected, it was found that he had inserted several 
alterations, had rearranged much of the subject-matter, and 
had in other ways presumed to tamper with the text. At 
this Bolingbroke's smouldering resentment burst into a 
flame. We very much question, however, whether rage 
would have carried him to such lengths had it not been 
aggravated by that bad man who was now always at his 
elbow. 

Into Bolingbroke's relations with the cur Mallet we have 
no intention of entering. To the influence of that unprin- 
cipled adventurer and most detestable man is, we believe, 
in a large measure to be attributed almost everything 
which loaded his latter years with reproach — the assault 
on Pope, the unseemly controversy with Warburton, the 
determination to prepare for posthumous publication what 
he had not the courage to publish during life.* 

* It is, we tliink, highly probable that the most obnoxious of Bol- 
ingbrolve's writings would never have travelled beyond the circle of 
his private friends had it not been for the sordid cupidity of Mallet. 
Mallet, it is well known, anticipated enormous profits from the sale 
of his patron's works, and did all in his power to swell their bulk. 
It is dangerous to predicate anything of a man so inconsistent as Bol- 
ingbroke, but it is remarkable that he had several times expressed 
in the most emphatic terms his anxiety not to appear publicly among 
the assailants of the national faith. Indeed, he went so far as to 
caution Pope against heterodoxy. See his Letter to Swift, September 
12, 1724 ; his Letter to Pope, " Works," quarto edition, vol. iii., p. 313, 
and again p. 330. See also " Marchmont Papers," vol. ii., p. 288, aud 
Cooke's " Life," vol. ii., p. 252. It was said, also, that he had prom- 
ised Lady Harlington that these works should never be published. 
See Cooke's "Life," vol. ii., p. 252. In a letter to Hardwicke (see 
Harris, "Life of Hardwicke," vol. ii., p. 112) he says that he "re- 
spected evangelical religion," as he "ought." The theory that he 
deceived Pope and Swift as to his real opinions is too absurd to be 
discussed. Is it likely that three such men as Bolingbroke, Pope, 



180 ESSAYS. 

Biography has few sadder pages to show than those 
which record the last days of Bolingbroke. From the 
Past he could derive no consolation, for he could look 
back on nothing but failure ; in the Present his portion 
was pain, obloquy, and solitude. In the Future he saw 
only what the strongest mind cannot contemplate without 
apprehension, for his stern creed taught him to expect that 
the stroke which terminates suffering terminates being. A 
complication of disorders, soon to culmi^iate in the most 
frightful malady to which man is subject, racked his body. 
His temper became irritable, even to ferocity. His noble 
intellect remained indeed unimpaired, but was clouded with 
misanthropy. He was at war with all classes, and all class- 
es were at war with him. "The whole stock of moral 
evil " — such is his language to Lyttclton — " which severity 
of government, inveteracy of party resentments, negligence 
or treachery of relations and friends, could bring upon me 
seems to be at last exhausted." * Though he still aspired 
to direct the counsels of Frederick, he had the mortifica- 
tion of perceiving that he was an oracle whom few con- 
sulted, many ridiculed, and none heeded. Visitors to Bat- 
tersea grew less and less frequent. Even his disciples 
began to fall off. " Je deviens tons les ans," he wrote in 
that language which had in happier days been so dear to 
him, "de plus en plus isole dans ce monde." In March, 
1750, the only tie which bound him to life was severed. 

and Swift, would, in the freedom of familiar intercourse, discuss such 
topics with reserve ? Is it likely that their opinions would materially 
differ. The truth probably is that Bolingbroke shrank, like Gibbon, 
from identifying himself with a clique whom he detested as a philos- 
opher, as a statesman, and as a gentleman. 

* Letter to Lyttelton, August 20, 1747. Phillimore's " Life of Lyt- 
telton," vol. ii., p. 293. 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 181 

His wife had long been ailing; for several weeks she had 
been on the point of death. The blow was, therefore, not 
unexpected, but when it came it came with terrible force, 
for he had loved her with a tenderness which seemed scarce- 
ly compatible with his cold and selfish nature. He laid 
her among his ancestors at Battersea, and he commended 
her virtues and accomplishments in an epitaph which is a 
model of graceful and dignified eulogy. lie was not long 
in following her. For some time he had been troubled 
with a humor in his cheek. As it had caused him no in- 
convenience, he had paid little attention to it. But in the 
middle of 1751 it began to assume a malignant character, 
and at the end of August his physician pronounced it to 
be cancer. It was at first hoped that an operation might 
save him. He refused, however, to listen to those who 
were most competent to advise, and insisted on placing 
himself in the hands of a popular empiric. Unskilful 
treatment served only to aggravate his distemper. His 
sufferings were dreadful. He bore them with heroic forti- 
tude, and he took his farewell of one of the few friends 
whom Fortune had spared him with sentiments not un- 
worthy of that sublime religion which he had long reject- 
ed, and on which he was even then preparing to heap in- 
sult. " God who placed me here will do what he pleases 
with me hereafter, and he knows best what to do. May 
he bless you." These were the last recorded words of 
Bolingbroke. On the 12tli of December, 1751, he was no 
more. 

A little more than two years after Bolingbroke's death, 
his literary executor. Mallet, gave to the world in five state- 
ly quartos his literary and philosophical works. AVith most 
of the former the public were already acquainted. Of the 
latter they knew nothing. To the latter, therefore, all 



182 ESSAYS. 

readers at once turned. Their first emotion was eager cu- 
riosity, their second astonishment and anger. Never be- 
fore had an Englishman of Bolingbroke's parts and genius 
appeared among the assailants of the national faith. The 
whole country was in a ferment. The obnoxious works 
'were denounced from the pulpit. The Grand Jury of West- 
minster presented them as a nuisance. The Press teemed 
with pamphlets. Warburton attacked them with charac- 
teristic vigor and acrimony ; and Warburton was at no 
long interval succeeded by Leland. Nor was it by theo- 
logians only that the task of refutation was undertaken. 
Poor Henry Fielding, then fast sinking under a complica- 
tion of diseases, commenced an elaborate reply, a fragment 
of which may still be found in his works, a fragment which 
seems to indicate that the prince of English novelists might, 
had he so willed it, have held no mean place among philo- 
sophical controversialists. 

The writinivs which caused so much consternation amonjx 
our forefathers have long since passed into oblivion. In 
our day they are rarely consulted even by the curious. Nor 
is this surprising. They satisfy no need, they solve no 
problem, they furnish little entertainment. What was 
worth preserving in them has been presented in a far more 
attractive shape by Pope. What was most daring in them 
is embalmed in the wit and grace of Voltaire. We shall 
therefore despatch them without much ceremony. Their 
object was threefold. It was to demolish theological and 
philosophical dogma, to purify philosophy from mysticism, 
and " to reconstruct on an entirely new basis the science 
of metaphysics." Bolingbroke's qualifications for the work 
of demolition consist of boundless fertility of invective, a 
very imperfect acquaintance with the works which he un- 
dertakes to condemn, and a deo-rec of technical ignorance 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 183 

which is sometimes almost incredible. The writings on 
which he is most severe are the Old Testament, the Epis- 
tles of St. Paul, and the Platonic Dialogues. The first he 
pronounces, without any circumlocution, to be a farrago of 
gross and palpable falsehoods : in the second he discerns 
only the jargon of a fanatical visionary, perplexed himself, 
and perplexing everything he discusses. To Plato he can 
never even allude without a torrent of abuse. He is the 
father of philosophical lying, a mad theologian, a bombastic 
poet, the master of metaphysical pneumatics. Having 
thus disposed of those whom lie regards as the earliest 
sources of Error, he next proceeds to deal, and to deal in a 
similar spirit, with their followers — with " super.^itious 
liars " like Cyprian, with " vile fellows " like Eusebius, with 
" chimerical quacks " like Leibnitz, with " nonsensical para- 
phrasers of jargon " like Cudworth, with " orthodox bul- 
lies " like Tillotsou, with " empty bullies " like Clarke, with 
"foul-mouthed pedants" like Warburton. To say that 
Bolingbroke has in all cases failed in his attacks would be 
to give a very imperfect idea of his character as a contro- 
versialist. The truth is that he knew, as a rule, little or 
nothing of what he professes to confute. It is obvious 
that he has frequently not even taken the trouble to turn 
to the works on which he passes sentence. What he knows 
of the philosophy of antiquity is what he has picked up 
from Cudworth and Stanley. What he knows of modern 
speculation is what he has derived from Bayle, Rapin, and 
Thomassin. Of the relative value of authority he appears 
to have no conception. The trash which has descended 
to us under the name of Orpheus is in his eyes as authen- 
tic as the History of the Peloponnesian War. He speaks 
with the same ignorant contempt of the statements of 
writers like Josephus, and of the statements of writers like 



184 ESSAYS. 

Herodotus and Diodorus. He classes Plato witb Plotinus, 
and Aristotle with lamblicus. 

But however ludicrously he fails in point of knowledge, 
he fails, if possible, still more ludicrously when he attempts 
to reason. His logic is the logic of a woman in anger. He 
is not merely inconsistent, but suicidal. What he asserts 
with ferocious vehemence at one moment, he denies with 
ferocious vehemence the next. What is assumed as unde- 
niably true at the beginning of a section is assumed to be 
undeniably false at the end of it. We will give one or two 
samples. One of his principal arguments against the au- 
thenticity of the Mosaic Writings is the a priori argument 
that, as man has no need of a revelation, no revelation has 
been conceded ; and this argument he has been at great 
pains to establish. In the Essays he tells us that a revela- 
tion has undoubtedly been granted, and that this revela- 
tion is to be found in the Gospels. In the Letter on Til- 
lotson's Sermon he informs us that one of the strongest 
presumptions against the veracity of Moses is the fact that 
none of his assertions are supported by collateral testi- 
mony. In the Essays he tells us that the Pentateuch " con- 
tains traditions of very great antiquity, some of which were 
preserved and propagated by other nations as well as the 
Israelites, and by other historians as well as Moses." Of 
Christianity he sometimes appears as the apologist, and 
sometimes as the opponent. In one Essay it is the authen- 
tic message of the Almighty, in another it is bastard Pla- 
tonisra. In the Minutes it is "a continued lesson of the 
strictest morality ;" in the Essays it is the offspring of de- 
liberate deceit. In the "Letter to Pouilly" he rejects, he 
says, any revelation which is not confirmed by miraculous 
evidence, because it lacks authority. In the " Letters to 
Pope " he rejects, he says, a revelation which is accompa- 
nied by miraculous evidence, because it shocks his reason. 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. 185 

Such is Bolingbroke's philosophy on its aggressive side, 
the side on which it is at once most offensive and most 
impotent. In the construction of his own system — we are 
speaking merely as critics — he has, it must be admitted, 
been more successful. The main features of that system 
are familiar to us from the poem of Pope. Pope, however, 
only followed his friend's theories so far as they were con- 
sistent with orthodox belief. Bolingbroke carried them 
much further. His philosophy, extricated from the rank 
and tangled jungle of the Essays and Minutes, may be 
briefly summarized : That there lives and works, self-exist- 
ent and indivisible. One God ; that the world is His crea- 
tion ; that all we can discern of His nature and His attri- 
butes is what we can deduce from the economy of the 
Universe; that what we can thus deduce is the quality of 
infinite wisdom coincident with infinite benevolence, both 
operating not by particular but by general laws ; that any 
attempt to analyze His attributes further is blasphemy and 
presumption ; that the Voice of God spoke neither in the 
thunders of Sinai nor from the lips of Prophets, but speaks 
only, and will continue to speak only, in the Harmony of 
the Universe ; that one of the most striking proofs of that 
harmony lies in a sort of fundamental connection between 
the idea of God and the reason of man, and that it is this 
bond which ennobles morality into something more than a 
conventional code; that man's faculties are, like his body, 
adapted only for the practical functions of existence ; that 
all his knowledge is derived from sensation and reflection, 
and that, though he is the crown of created beings, he has 
no connection with Divinity. There are, he contends, no 
grounds for supposing cither that the soul is immortal, or 
that there is a world beyond the tomb, for everything tends 
to prove that the soul is woven of the same perishable ma- 



186 ESSAYS. 

terial as the body, and a future state is not only logically 
improbable but essentially superfluous. Man's life is in it- 
self complete; virtue constitutes, as a rule, its own reward, 
vice constitutes, as a rule, its own punishment. Where in- 
equalities exist, they exist only in appearance. AVhatever 
is, is right ; but whatever is must be contemplated, not in 
its bearings on individuals, but as an integral portion of 
the vast and exquisite mechanism of the Great Whole. It 
will be at once perceived that this was not new, and that 
Bolingbroke, though he aspired to the glory of an original 
thinker, laid under contribution not only the philosophy* 
of antiquity and the writings of contemporary Deists, but 
the speculations of Locke, Shaftesbury, Leibnitz, Wollaston, 
Clarke, and Archbishop King. 

This portion of his philosophic works is, to do him jus- 
tice, not without merit. His reasoning is, it is true, more 
specious than solid, more skilful than persuasive : frequent- 
ly contradictory, still more frequently inconclusive. But 
what he states he usually states with force, with perspicui- 
ty, and with eloquence. Ilis illustrations are often singu- 
larly happy, his theories suggestive, his reflections shrewd 
and ingenious. We could point to fragments in which 
noble ideas are embodied in noble language; we could 
point to paragraphs as fine as anything in Cicero or Jere- 

* The most sensible and the only valuable part of the Boling- 
brokian Philosophy is in truth little more than an expansion of the 
well-known passage in the De Legibus : wv tV Kai to <j6v, w (TxsrXie, 
fiopiov elg TO Trap ^vvTeivu [SXettov ad Kaiirtp TrdvGfiiKpov ov ak St 
XsXrjOe TTtpl Toiiro avrb o)Q yeveffig tVefca Ueivov yiyvETai -Kaaa, oTTtuQ 
y i) r^p Tov Travrog (3i(i) vTrapxovcra tvdaifiwv ovaia, ovx fVffca (tov 
jiyvoji'ivi], ov Se tviKU ikhvov ' vdg yap laTpog tvTfxvog Sr]fnopyog 
TiUVTug juf J/ tVffca TrdpTu IpydZsTai, irpog to koivt} Ivvthvov ^kXriaTov, 
fiepog iirjv 'ivEKa oXov Kai ovx oXov fikpovg evcica ATrepydZeTai. — " Pla- 
to De LegihxiSy lib. x., p. 903. 



LITERARY LIFE OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. IS? 

my Taylor. But they are rare and far between ; tliey are 
oases in a wilderness of unmethodical arrangement, of pro- 
lix digressions, of endless repetitions. 

We must now take our leave of this brilliant but most 
unhappy man, the glory and the shame both of our history 
and of our literature. If in the course of our narrative we 
have commented with severity on his many errors, we 
would fain, in parting with him, remember only his nobler 
traits. We would do justice to his splendid and versatile 
genius; to his manly and capacious intellect; to his ma- 
jestic eloquence ; to the vastness and grandeur of his aspi- 
rations ; to his invincible spirit ; to his superhuman energy; 
to his instinctive sympathy with the exalted and the beau- 
tiful. We would think of him as the discriminating pa- 
tron of philosophy, of science, and of literature. We would 
dwell on his superiority to those base passions which are 
too often found among men of letters, on his entire free- 
dom from everything paltry and sordid, on that ambition 
which had no taint of envy; on that pride which never 
degenerated into vanity. With all his blemishes, he is a 
magnificent figure ; with all his failures, he left the world 
in his debt. As we close with mingled feelings of wonder 
and pity, of admiration and sorrow, the checkered story of 
his life, we are insensibly reminded of the solemn words in 
which the Abbot passes sentence on Manfred : 

'* This should have been a noble creature ! He 
Hath all the energy which would have made 
A goodly frame of glorious elements, 
Had they been wisely mingled ; as it is, 
It is an awful chaos — light and darkness, 
And mind and dust, and passions and high thoughts, 
Mixed and contending without end or order. 
All dormant or destructive. He will perish." 



VOLTAIRE IN ENGLAND, 



SUMMARY. 



PART I. 



Voltaire's stay in England, an unwritten chapter in his biography, 
p. 191, 192— Date of his arrival, p. 193, 194— First impressions, p. 196 
— The friends he makes in England : Bubb Dodington, Sir Everard 
Falkener, p. 196-198 — Interview with Pope, p. 200, 201 — Reverses of 
fortune : family afflictions, p. 202, 203— At Eastbur}', meets Young, 
p. 205, 206 — His views on men and mftnners, p. 206-208 — Lady Her- 
vey : Voltaire's English verses, p. 209— His double-dealing in politics, 
p. 210-212 — His effusiveness as a critic, p. 212— Studies of English 
life, p. 212-215— Visit to France, p. 216. 

TART II. 

Scrap-book of Voltaire : a clew to his familiarity with English life, 
p. 216-218 — His study of Newton's works, of Locke's, of Bacon's and 
Berkeley's, p. 218, 219 — Warm sympathy with the Free-thought move- 
ment, as inaugurated by Collins and Woolston, p. 220 — His literary 
productions in the English language, p. 220-224 — Preparations for 
the publication of the "Henriade," p. 224-226 — Issue of the work: 
its immense success, p. 226-228 — Piratical publishers, p. 228, 229 — 
Domestic troubles, p. 230 — Alterations of the manuscript, p. 231 — 
Comments of the Press, p. 231, 232 — Untoward incident: Voltaire's 
clever escape, p. 233 — British national self-complacency strikingly il- 
lustrated, p. 233, 234. 

PART III. 

Voltaire's different literary undertakings from April, 1728, until 
March, 1729, p. 234-236 — His growing familiarity with English liter- 
ature, p. 236-238— His indebtedness to English Men of Letters, p. 238- 
241 — Retrospect at the close of his stay in England, p. 240 — His re- 
spect for the English, p. 242 — Calumnious statements circulated as to 
the cause of his departure from England, p. 243 — Last interview with 
Pope, p. 214 — Voltaire's return to France, p. 245. 



VOLTAIRE IN ENGLANDX 




SECTION I. 

JUNE, 1T2G-N0VEMBER, 1727. 

The residence of Voltaire in England is an unwritten 
chapter in the literary history of the eighteenth century. 
And yet, assuredly, few episodes in that history are so 
well worth attentive consideration. In liis own opinion it 
was the tnrning-point of his career. In the opinion of 
Condorcet it was fraught with consequences of momentous 
importance to Europe and to humanity. What is certain 
is that it left its traces on almost everything which he sub- 
sequently produced, either as the professed disciple and in- 
terpreter of English teachers, or as an independent inquirer. 
It penetrated his life. " Des ce moment," says Condorcet, 
"Voltaire so sentit appele a detruire les prejuges de toute 
cspecc, dont son pays etait Pesclave." Its influence ex- 
tended even to his poetry and to his criticism, to his work 
as a historian and to his work as an essayist. Nor is this 
all. The circumstances under which he sought our pro- 
tection ; his strange experiences among us ; his relations 
with Pope, Swift, and Bolingbroke, with the Court, with 
our aristocracy, with the people ; the zeal and energy with 
which he studied our manners, our government, our science, 
our history, our literature ; his courageous attempts to dis- 
tinguish himself as a writer in English — all combme to 
form one of the most interesting passages in his singularly 



192 ESSAYS. 

But, unfortunately, no portion of Voltaire's biography- 
is involved in greater obscurity. " On ignore," writes 
Charles Rerausat, "a peu pres quelle fut sa vie en Angle- 
terre. Ces deux annees sont une lacune dans son histoire. 
C'est un point de sa biographie qui meriterait des recher- 
chcs." Carlyle, who attempted in the third volume of his 
" Frederick the Great " to throw some light on it, aban- 
doned the task in impatient despair. Mere inanity and 
darkness visible — such are his expressions — reign, in all 
Voltaire's biographies, over this period of his life. " Seek 
not to know it," he exclaims; "no man has inquired into 
it, probably no competent man ever will."* 

It happened, however, that at the very time Carlyle was 
thus expressing himself, a very competent man was en- 
gaged on the task. The researches of Desnoiresterres suc- 
ceeded in dispersing a portion at least of the obscurity 
which hung over Voltaire's movements during these mys- 
terious years. He took immense pains to supply the de- 
ficiencies of preceding biographers. Judging rightly that 
all that could now be recovered could be recovered only in 
scattered fragments, he diligently collected such informa- 
tion as lay dispersed in Voltaire's own correspondence and 
writings, and in the correspondence and writings of those 
with whom his illustrious countryman had, when in Eng- 
land, been brought into contact. Much has, it is true, es- 
caped him ; much which he has collected he has not, per- 
haps, turned to the best account ; but it is due to him — 
the fullest and the most satisfactory of Voltaire's biogra- 
phers — to say that his chapter, " Voltaire et la Societe An- 
glaise," must form the basis of all future inquiries into this 
most interesting subject. To higher praise he is not, we 

* Carlyle's own account is full of errors, some of them evincing 
almost incredible carelessness. 



VOLTAIRE IN" ENGLAND. 193 

think, entitled. Some of Desnoiresterres's deficiencies are 
supplied by Mr. Parton, whose " Life of Voltaire " appeared 
in two goodly octavos in 1881. Mr. Parton has made one 
or two unimportant additions to what was already known, 
but he has, we are sorry to find, done little more. We 
gratefully acknowledge our obligations both to Desnoires- 
terres and to Mr. Parton. But these obliQ-ations are slio-ht. 
The first point to be settled is the exact date of his ar- 
rival in England, and that date can, we think, be deter- 
mined with some certainty. On May the 2d (n. s.), 1726, 
an order arrived for his release from the Bastile, on the 
understanding that he would quit France and betake him- 
self, as he had offered to do, to England. On May the 6th 
he was, as his letter to Madame de Ferriole proves, at Cal- 
ais ;* and at Calais he remained for some days, the guest 
of his friend Dunoquet, the treasurer of the troops. How 
long he remained at Calais we cannot say, as no documents 
have as yet been discovered which throw light on his 
movements between the 6th of May and the beginning of 
June, From his letter to Madame de Ferriole it certainly 
appears that he had no immediate intention of embarking. 
He asks her to send him news and to give him instruc- 
tions, and tells her that he is waiting to receive them. In 
all probability he continued at Calais, not as the biogra- 
phers assert, for four days, but for nearly five weeks — that 
is to say, from the 6th of May to the 8th or 9th of June- 
He tells us himself that he disembarked near Greenwich, 
and it is clear from the passage which follows that he land- 
ed on the day of Greenwich Fair. That fair was invaria- 
bly held on Whit-Monday, and Whit-Monday fell in 1726 
on May the 30th (o. s.). Now a reference to the Daily 
Courant for May the 30th shows that a mall arrived from 

* And see tlie " Letter to A. M*** Melanges," vol. i., p. 17. 
9 



194 ESSAYS. 

France on Sunday the 29th, which would be, of course, ac- 
cording to the new style, June 10th. Supposing, there- 
fore, that his visit at Calais was protracted to five weeks 
after his letter to Madame de Ferriole — and there is, as we 
have shown, no reason for supposing that it was not — the 
time would exactly tally. That he should have remained 
on board till Monday morning need excite no surprise. 
But there is other evidence in favor of this date. In the 
remarkable passage in which he describes what he saw on 
landing, he tells us that the vessels in the river had spread 
their sails (deploye leurs voiles) to do honor to the King 
and Queen,* and he particularly notices the splendid liv- 
eries worn by the King's menials. We turn to the Lon- 
don Gazette for Monday, May the 30th, and we find that 
on that day the King's birthday, the rejoicings for which 
had been deferred from the preceding Saturday, was " cel- 
ebrated with the usual demonstrations of public joy ;" and 
in the British Gazetteer for Saturday, May the 21st, we 
read that " great preparations are making for celebrating 
the King's birthday," and that " the King's menial serv- 
ants are to be new clothed on that occasion." We be-/ 
lieve, then, that Voltaire first set foot in England on Whit/ 
Monday, May the 30th, 1*726. 

On the voyage he had been the prey of melancholy 
thoughts. He drew, in the bitterness of his soul, a par- 
allel between his own position and the position in which 
his favorite hero once stood. And his feelings found ex- 
pression in verse — 

" Je ne dois pas etre plus fortune 
Que le heros celebre sur raa vielle. 



* In adding the name of the Queen he was of course mistaken, as 
she was in confinement. 



VOLTAIRE IN ENGLAND. 195 

II fut proscrit, persecute, damne 
Par les devots et leur douce sequelle. 
En Angleterre il trouva du secours, 
J'en vais chercher."* 

But on landing he soon recovered his cheerfulness, and 
throwing himself, in a transport of joy, on the earth, he 
reverently saluted it.f Many of his countrymen have de- 
scribed their first impressions of the land of Shakespeare 
and Newton, but to none of them has it ever presented it- 
self as it presented itself to the fascinated eye of Voltaire. 
Everything combined to fill the young exile with delight 
and admiration. Though his health was delicate, he was 
in exuberant spirits. It was a cloudless day in the loveli- 
est month of the English year. A soft wind from the 
west — we are borrowing his own glowing description — 
tempered the rays of the hot spring sun, and disposed the 
heart to joy. The Thames, rolling full and rapid, was in 
all its glory ; and in all their glory, too, were the stately 
trees which have now disappeared, but which then fringed 
the river-banks on both sides for many miles. Nor was it 
nature only that was keeping carnival. It was the anni- 
versary of the Great Fair, and it was the anniversary of the 
King*s birthday. The river between Greenwich and Lon- 
don was one unbroken pageant. Farther than the eye 
could see stretched, with every sail crowded, two lines of 
merchant-ships drawn up to salute the royal barge, which, 
preceded by boats with bands of music, and followed by 
wherries rowed by men in gorgeous liveries, floated slowly 
past. Everywhere he could discern the signs of prosper- 

* Quoted in the " Historical Memoirs " of the author of '* The Hen- 
riade" (IWS), where the writer speaks of having seen these verses 
in a letter in Voltaire's own handwriting, addressed to M. Dumas 
d'Aiguebere. f Duvernet, " Vic de Voltaire," p. 64, 



196 ESSAYS. 

ity and freedom. Loyal acclamations rent the air, and 
Voltaire observed with interest that a nation of freemen 
was a nation of dutiful subjects. 

From the river he tuvned to the park, and, curious to 
sec English society in all its phases, he spent the after- 
noon in observing what was going on. He wandered up 
and down the park, questioning such holiday-makers as 
could understand him, about the races, and the arrange- 
ments for the races. He admired the skill with which 
the young women managed their horses, and was greatly 
struck with the freshness and beauty of their complexions, 
the neatness of their dress, and the graceful vivacity of 
their movements. In the course of his rambles he acci- 
dentally met some English merchants to whom he had 
letters of introduction. By them he was treated with 
great courtesy and kindness. They lent him a horse, they 
provided him with refreshments, and they placed him 
where both the park and the river could be seen to most 
advantage. AVhile he was enjoying the fine view from 
the hill, he perceived near him a Danish courier who had, 
like himself, just arrived in England. The man's face, 
says Voltaire, was radiant with joy ; he believed himself 
to be in a paradise where the -women were always beau- 
tiful and animated, where the sky was always clear, and 
where no one thought of anything but pleasure. " And 
I," he adds, " was even more enchanted than the Dane."* 

The same evening he was in London, in all probability 
the guest of Bolingbroke. His acquaintance with that 
distino-uished man had beojun at La Source in the winter 
of 1721. Their acquaintance had soon ripened into inti- 
macy, and though since then their personal intercourse 
had been interrupted, they had interchanged letters. At 

^' " Letter to A. M*^"^' Melanges," vol. i., p. l*? sqq. 



VOLTAIRE IN ENGLAND. 197 

that time Bolingbroke was an exile ; he had recently ob- 
tained a pardon, and was now settled in England, where 
he divided his time between his town-house in Pall Mall 
and his countrj^-house at Dawley. The friendship of Bol- 
ingbroke would have been a sufficient passport to the most 
brilliant literary circles in London, but as the connection 
of Bolingbroke lay principally among the Tories, the 
young adventurer had taken the precaution to secure a 
protector among the Whigs. The name of Bubb Dod- 
mgton is now a synonyme for all that is vilest and most 
contemptible in the trade of politics, but at the time of 
which we are writing his few virtues were more prominent 
than his many vices. His literary accomplishments, his 
immense wealth, and his generous though not very dis- 
criminating patronage of men of letters, had deservedly 
given him a high place among the Maecenases of his age. 
At his palace in Dorsetshire he loved to assemble the wits 
and poets of the Opposition, the most distinguished of 
whom were Thomson and Young — the one still busy with 
his Seasons, the other slowly elaborating his brilliant 
Satires. For his introduction to Dodington he was in- 
debted to the English Ambassador at Paris, Horace Wal- 
pole the elder, who had, at the instigation of the Count 
de Morville, written a letter recommending him to the 
patronage of Dodington. How fully he availed himself 
of these and other influential friends is proved by the fact 
that when he quitted England in 1729 there w^as scarcely 
a single person of distinction, either in letters or politics, 
with whom he was not personally acquainted. But his 
most intimate associate was an opulent English merchant 
who resided at Wandsworth, and whose name was Everard 
Falkener. He had become acquainted with him in Paris, 
and had promised, should opportunity offer, to visit him 



198 ESSAYS. 

in England.* Falkener's house he seems to have regarded 
as his home, and of Falkener himself he always speaks in 
terms of affection and gratitude. He dedicated " Zaire " 
to him ; he regularly corresponded with him ; and to the 
end of his life he loved to recall the happy days spent 
under his good friend's hospitable roof at Wandsworth. 
Many years afterwards, when he wished to express his 
sense of the kindness he had received from King Stan- 
islaus, he described him " as a kind of Falkener." Of 
Falkener few particulars have survived. We know from 
Voltaire that he was subsequently appointed Ambassador 
to Constantinople, that he held some appointment in Flan- 
ders, and that he was knighted. We gather from other 
sources that he became secretary to the Duke of Cumber- 
land, and that he was one of the witnesses called on the 
trial of Simon Lord Lovat, in 1747. To this it may be 
added that he became, towards the end of George the Sec- 
ond's reign, one of the postmasters-general ; that in 1747 f 
he married a daughter of General Churchill ; and that he 
died at Bath, November 16, 1758.J: That Voltaire should 
have delighted in his society is not surprising, for though 
we know little of Falkener's character, we know enough to 
understand its charm. "I am here" — so runs a passage 
in one of his letters, quoted by Voltaire in his remarks 
upon Pascal — "just as you left me, neither merrier nor 
sadder, nor richer nor poorer; enjoying perfect health, 
having everything that renders life agreeable, without love, 
without avarice, without ambition, and without envy ; and, as 
long as all that lasts, I shall call myself a very happy man." § 

* Goldsmith's "Life of Voltaire," Miscellaneous Works, vol. iv., 
p. 20. f Gentleman'' s Magazine for February, 1747. 

X Gentleman's Magazine for November, ITSS. 
§ " (Euvres Completes," Beuchot, vol. xxxviii., p. 46. 



VOLTAIRE IN ENGLAND. 199 

To what extent Voltaire was acquainted with the Eng- 
lish language on his arrival at Greenwich it is impossible 
to say. We can find no traces of his having been engaged 
in studying it before his retirement subsequent to the can- 
ing he received from the Chevalier de Rohan, at the be- 
ginning of February, 1726. If this was the case, what he 
knew of our language was what he had been able to pick 
up in about three months. His progress must have been 
unusually rapid, for he had not only made himself under- 
stood at Greenwich Fair, but on the following day he had 
mingled familiarly with the company at the coffee-houses. 
It is of course possible that the conversation had, on these 
occasions, been carried on in his native language. Then, 
as now, large numbers of French refugees had found a 
home in London. They had their own places of worship ; 
they had their own coffee-houses, the principal being the 
" Rainbow," in Marylebone, and there was quite a colony 
of them at Wandsworth. Then, as now, almost all edu- 
cated Englishmen were conversant with the language of 
Racine and Moliere. Regularly as each season came round 
a Parisian company appeared. At Court it was the usual 
mode of communication. By 1728 its attainment was 
held to be so essential a part of education that in the Oc- 
tober of that year a journal was started, the professed ob- 
ject of which was to facilitate the study of it.* Indeed, 
wherever he went he would encounter his countrymen, or 
Londoners who could converse with him in the language 
of his countrymen. In Bolingbroke's house he would 
probably hear little else, for Lady Bolingbroke scarcely 
ever ventured to express herself in English ; and of Falke- 
ncr's proficiency in French we have abundant proof. But 

* See the Flying Post or Weehly Medley^ the first number of which 
appeared on October 8, 1728. 



200 ESSAYS. 

among the cultivated Englishmen of that day there was 
one remarkable exception, and that was unfortunately in 
the case of a man with whom Voltaire was most anxious 
to exchange ideas. " Pope," wrote Voltaire many years 
afterwards, "could hardly read French, and spoke not one 
syllable of our language."* Voltaire^s desire to meet 
Pope had no doubt been sharpened by the flattering re- 
marks which Pope had, two years before, made about the 
" Henriade," or, as it was then entitled, " La Ligue." A 
copy of the poem had been forwarded to him from France 
by Bolingbroke, and to oblige Bolingbroke he had man- 
aged to spell it out. The perusal had given him, he said, 
a very favorable idea of the author, whom he pronounced 
to be " a bigot, but no heretic ; one who knows authority 
and national sanctions without prejudice to truth and 
charity; in a word, one worthy of that share of friendship 
and intimacy with which you honor him."f These com- 
plimentary remarks Bolingbroke had, it seems, conveyed 
to Voltaire, and a correspondence appears to have ensued 
between the two poets, though no traces of that corre- 
spondence are now to be found.J Of his first interview 
with Pope three accounts are now extant. The first is 
that given by Owen Ruffhead, the substance of which is 
repeated by Johnson in his life of Pope; the second is 
that given by Goldsmith, and the third is that given by 
Duvernet. It will be well, perhaps, to let each authority 
tell his own story. 

" Mr. Pope," writes Owen Ruffhead, " told one of his most intimate 
friends that the poet Voltaire had got some recommendation to him 
when he came to England, and that the first time he saw him was at 

* See Spence's "Anecdotes " (Singer, 8vo.), p. 204, note. 

f Letter to Bolingbroke, dated April 9, 1724. 

X See Pope's letter to Caryl, dated December 25, 1725. 



VOLTAIRE IN ENGLAND. 201 

Twickenham, where he kept him to dinner. Mrs. Pope, a most ex- 
cellent woman, was then alive, and observing that this stranger, who 
appeared to be entirely emaciated, had no stomach, she expressed 
her concern for his want of appetite, on which Voltaire gave her so 
indelicate and brutal an account of the occasion of his disorder, con- 
tracted in Italy, that the poor lady was obliged immediately to rise 
from the table. When Mr. Pope related that, his friend asked him 
how he could forbear ordering his servant John to thrust Voltaire 
head and shoulders out of his house ? lie replied that there was 
more of ignorance in this conduct than a purposed affront ; that Vol- 
taire came into England, as other foreigners do, on a prepossession 
that not only all religion, but all common decency of morals, was lost 
among us." — Life of Pope, 4to, p. 156. 

Next comes Goldsmith : 

" M. Voltaire has often told his friends that he never observed in 
himself such a succession of opposite passions as he experienced 
upon his first interview with Mr. Pope. When he first entered the 
room and perceived our poor, melancholy poet, naturally deformed, 
and wasted as he was with sickness and study, he could not help re- 
garding him with the utmost compassion ; but when Pope began to 
speak and to reason upon moral obligations, and dress the most deli- 
cate sentiments in the most charming diction, Voltaire's pity began 
to be changed into admiration, and at last even into envy. It is not 
uncommon with him to assert that no man ever pleased him so much 
in serious conversation, nor any whose sentiments mended so much 
upon recollection." — Life of Voltaire, Miscellaneous Works, vol. iv., 
p. 24. 

It is difficult to reconcile these accounts with the narra- 
tive of Duvernet, who, as he almost certainly had his in- 
formation from Thieriot, is an authority of great weight : 

" Dans leur premiere entrevue ils f urent fort embarrasses. Pope 
s'exprimait tres peniblement en Fran9ais, et Voltaire n'etant point 
accoutume aux sifSements de la langue Anglaise ne pouvait se faire 
entendre. II se retira dans un village et ne rentra dans Londres que 
lorsqu'il eut acquis une grande facilite h. s'exprimer en Anglais." 

9- 



202 ESSAYS. 

This seems to us by far the most probable account. It 
is certain that Voltaire devoted himself with great assidu- 
ity to the systematic study of English, shortly after his 
arrival among us. He provided himself with a regular 
teacher, who probably assisted liim not only in the compo- 
sition of his letters, which he now regularly wrote in Eng- 
lish, but in the composition of his two famous essays.* 
He obtained an introduction to Colley Gibber, and regu- 
larly attended the theatres, following the play in a printed 
copy.f His studies were, however, interrupted by his sud- 
denly leaving England for France — an expedition attended 
with considerable peril, and conducted with the utmost se- 
crecy. The particulars of this journey are involved in 
great obscurity. That he undertook it with the object of 
inducing the Chevalier de Rohan to give him an opportu- 
nity of avenging his wounded honor — that for some time, 
at least, he remained concealed in Paris, not venturing to 
have an interview with any friend or with any relative — 
is clear from his letter to Thieriot, dated August 12, 1726. 
That he was at Wandsworth again, almost immediately af- 
terwards, is proved by a letter to Mademoiselle Bessieres, 
dated October the 15th, In which he speaks of himself as 
having been there for two months. 

He arrived in England in a state of abject depression, 
and this depression was aggravated by ill-health and the 
cross accidents of fortune. He had brought with him a 
bill of exchange of the value of 20,000 francs, and this 
bill — as he was not in immediate need of money — he had 
neglected to present. On presenting it to the man on 
whom it had been drawn — one D'Acosta, a Jew — D'Acos- 
ta informed him that three days before he had become 

* " La Voltairomanie," pp. 46, 47. 

f Chetwood's " History of the Stage," p. 46. 



VOLTAIRE IN ENGLAND. 203 

bankrupt; and the money was lost. Voltaire's misfort- 
une, however, happening to reach the ears of the King, the 
King good-naturedly sent him a sum which has been vari- 
ously estimated, but which probably amounted to a Imn- 
dred guineas, and so relieved him from pressing embarrass- 
ment. But what affected him most was the news of the 
death of his sister. This threw him into an agony of 
grief. There is nothing in the whole range of Voltaire's 
voUiminous correspondence so touching as the letter in 
which his feelings on this sad occasion found vent. It 
was addressed to Mademoiselle Bessieres, the lady who had 
sent the intelligence. It is dated " Wandsworth, October 
15, 1726." He describes himself as acquainted only with 
the sorrows of life ; he is dead, he says, to everything but 
the affection he owes to his correspondent. He alludes 
bitterly to the " retraite ignoree " from which he writes ; 
and he says it would have been far better, both for his rel- 
atives and liimself, had death removed him instead of his 
sister. "Les amertumes et les souffrances" — so run his 
gloomy reflections — " qui en ont marque presque tons les 
jours ont ete souvent mon ouvrage. Je sens la peu que je 
vaux ; mes faiblesses me font pitie et mes fautes me font 
horreur." On the following day he wrote in a similar 
strain to Madame de Bernieres. He was in deep distress, 
too, at the cruelty and injustice with which he had been 
treated by his brother ; and to this distress he subsequent- 
ly gave passionate utterance in a letter to Thieriot.* But 
neither depression nor sorrow ever held long dominion over 
that buoyant and volatile spirit. On the very day on 
which he was thus mournfully expressing himself to Ma- 
dame de Bernieres, he was, in another letter, dilating with 

* See letter dated " Wandsworth, June 14, 1727," *' CEuvres Com- 
pletes " (ed. 1880), vol. xxxiii., p. 172. 



204 ESSAYS. 

enthusiasm on the beauties of Pope's poetry. This we 
learn from a very interesting fragment preserved by War- 
burton in his notes to tlie " Epistle to Arbuthnot." As the 
fragment appears to have escaped the notice of all Vol- 
taire's editors and biographers, and as it proves the very 
high opinion he entertained of Pope's genius, Vv'c will 
quote a portion of it : 

" I look upon his poem called the * Essay on Cnticism ' as superior 
to the * Art of Poetry ' of Horace, and his ' Rape of the Lock ' is, 
in my opinion, above the ' Lutrin ' of Despreaux. I never saw so 
amiable an imagination, so gentle graces, so great variety, so much 
wit, and so refined knowledge of the world, as in this little perform- 
ance." 

It would be interesting to know if this manuscript letter, 
which Warburton described as being before him when he 
wrote, is now in existence. It was dated October 15, 
1726.* 

Of his movements during the autumn of 1726 we know 
nothing. The probability is that he was engaged in close 
study, and saw little society. lie instructs his correspond- 
ents in France to direct their letters to the care of Lord 
Bolingbroke ; but he was evidently not in personal commu- 
nication with Bolingbroke, or with any member of the 
Twickenham circle. This is proved by the fact that he 
knew nothing of the serious accident by which Pope near- 
ly lost his life until two months after it had happened, as 
his letter to Pope, dated November the 16th, shows. An- 
other letter,! too — a letter undated, but evidently belong- 
ing to this period and written in English — addressed to 
John Brinsden, Bolingbroke's secretary, points to the same 
conclusion. Very little, however, of the following year was 

* Warburton's "Pope" (octavo edition), vol. iv,, p. 40. 
f Preserved in Colet's " Relics of Literature," p. 70. 



VOLTAIRE IN ENGLAND. 205 

spent in retirement, for we find traces of him in many 
places. His attenuated figure and eager, haggard face grew 
familiar to the frequenters of fashionable society. He 
passed three months at the seat of Lord Peterborough, 
where he became intimate with Swift,* who was a fellow- 
visitor. At Bubb Dodington's mansion, at Eastbury, he 
met Young, who had not as yet taken orders, but was seek- 
ing fortune as a hanger-on at great houses. It was a curi- 
ous chance which brought together the future author of 
the " Night Thoughts " and the future author of " La Pu- 
celle ;" it was a still more curious circumstance that they 
should have formed a friendship which remained unbroken, 
when the one had become the most rigid of Christian di- 
vines, and the other the most daring of anti-Christian prop- 
agandists. Many years afterwards Young dedicated to him 
in very flattering terms one of the most pleasing of his 
minor poems — the Sea Piece. 

At Eastbury occm'red a well-known incident. A dis- 
cussion had arisen as to the merits of " Paradise Lost." 
Young spoke in praise of his favorite poet; Voltaire, who 
had as little sympathy with Milton as he had with ^schy- 
lus and Dante, objected to the episode of Sin and Death, 
contending that as they were abstractions, it was absurd to 
assign them offices proper only to concrete beings. These 
objections he enforced with his usual eloquence and sar- 
castic wit. The parallel between the hungry monster of 
Milton, " grinning horrible its ghastly smile," and the 
meagre form of the speaker — his thin face lighted up, as 
it always was in conversation, with that peculiar sardonic 

* See a very interesting extract from a MS. journal kept by a Ma- 
jor Broome, who visited Voltaire in 1*765, and who heard this and 
other particulars from Voltaire himself. It is printed in " Notes and 
Queries " (first scries), vol. x., p. 403. 



206 ESSAYS. 

smile familiar to us from his portraits — was irresistible. 
And Young closed the argument with an epigram (we 
quote Herbert Croft's version) : 

" You are so witty, profligate, and thin. 
At once we think thee Milton, Death, and Sin." 

It appears, however, from Young's poem, in which he 
plainly alludes to this conversation, that he succeeded in 
impressing on his friendly opponent " that Milton's blind- 
ness lay not in his song" — 

"Ou Dorset downs when Milton's page, 

With Sin and Death provoked thy rage, 
Thy rage provokM, who sooth'd with gentle rhymes ? 

Who kindly couch'd the censure's eye, 

And gave thee clearly to descry 
Sound judgment giving law to fancy strong? 

Who half inclin'd thee to confess, 

Nor could thy modesty do less, 
That Milton's blindness lay not in his song?" 

A letter written about this time to a friend in France, 
dated by the editors — but dated, we suspect, wrongly — 
1726, is a sufficient proof that the young exile was no 
longer either discontented or unhappy. " You who are a 
perfect Briton" — thus the letter runs — "should cross the 
Channel and come to us. I assure you that a man of your 
temper would not dislike a country where one obeys to 
(sic) the laws only, and to one's whims. Reason is free 
here, and walks her own way. Hypochondriacs are es- 
pecially welcome. No manner of living appears strange. 
Wo have men who walk six miles a day for their health, 
feed upon roots, never taste flesh, wear a coat in winter 
thinner than your ladies do in the hottest days." * 
* " Pieces In^dites de Voltaire." Paris, 1820. 



VOLTAIRE IN ENGLAND. 207 

In March he was present at the funeral of Sir Isaac New- 
ton. It was a spectacle which made a profound impres- 
sion on him, and he ever afterwards delighted to recall 
how he had once been the denizen of a country in which 
the first officers of the State contended for the honor of 
supporting the pall of a man whose sole distinction had 
lain in intellectual eminence. How differently, he thought, 
would the author of the " Principia " have fared in Paris. 
lie subsequently made the acquaintance of the philoso- 
pher's niece, Mrs. Conduit, and of the physician and sur- 
geon who attended him in his last moments; from them 
he learned many interesting particulars. It is perhaps 
worth mentioning that we owe to Voltaire the famous 
story of the falling apple,* and the preservation of the re- 
ply which Newton is said to have given to the person who 
asked him how he had discovered the laws of the universe. 

In the course of this year he met Gay, who showed him 
the " Beggar's Opera " before it appeared on the stage : f 
and it was probably in the course of this year that he paid 
his memorable visit to Congreve. His admiration of the 
greatest of our comic poets is sufficiently indicated in the 
"Lettres Philosophiques," and that admiration he lost no 
time in personally expressing. But Congreve, whose tem- 
per was probably not improved by gout and blindness, and 
who was irritated, perhaps, by the ebullience of his young 
admirer, affected to regard literary distinction as a trifle. 
" I beg," he said, " that you will look upon me, not as an 
author, but as a gentleman." " If," replied Voltaire, dis- 

* " Lettres Philosophiques XV.," and "Elements de la Philosophic 
de Newton," Partie III., chap, iii., where he says that he had heard 
the story from M. Conduit. 

f MS. letter written by a Major Broome, who visited Voltaire in 
1765 : printed in " Notes and Queries " (first series), vol. x., p. 403. 



208 ESSAYS. 

gustcd with his foppery, "you had had the misfortune to 
be simply a gentleman, I should not have troubled myself 
to wait upon you." To Congreve he owed, we suspect, 
his introduction to the Dowager Duchess of Marlborough, 
who not only communicated to him some interesting par- 
ticulars which he afterwards wove into his " Siecle de Louis 
XIV." and into his " History of Charles XII.," but is said 
to have solicited his assistance in drawing up her memoirs. 
This task he at first consented to undertake. The Duch- 
ess laid the papers before him, and issued her instructions. 
Finding, however, that he was to write not as unbiassed 
historical justice required, but as her Grace's capricious 
prejudices dictated, he ventured to expostulate. Upon 
that her manner suddenly changed. Flying into a passion, 
she snatched the paper from him, muttering, " I thought 
the man had sense ; but I find him, at bottom, either a 
fool or a philosopher." The story is told by Goldsmith ; * 
it would be interesting to know on what authority. 

Another story, resting, it is true, on no very satisfactory 
testimony, but in itself so intrinsically probable that we 
are inclined to believe it genuine, is related by Desnoires- 
terres. Voltaire, hearing that the Duchess was engaged 
in preparing her memoirs for publication, ventured to ask 
if he might be permitted to glance at the manuscript. 
*' You must wait a little," she said, " for I am revising 
it;" coolly observing that the conduct of the Government 
had so disgusted her that she had determined to recast 
the character of Queen Anne, " as I have," she added, 
" since these creatures have been our rulers, come to love 
her again." Pope's Atossa was assuredly uo caricature, 
and a better commentary on it it would be impossible to 
find. 

* *' Life of Voltaire," Miscellaneous Works, vol. iv., p. 25. 



VOLTAIRE IN ENGLAND. 209 

Like most of liis countrymen, Voltaire appears to have 
been greatly struck with the beauty of the English wom- 
en, and about this time he became acquainted with one 
whose charms have been more frequently celebrated than 
those of any other woman of that age. Voltaire was one 
of the thousand adorers of Molly Lepel, then the wife of 
Lord Hervey. To her he addressed a copy of verses which 
are interesting, as being the only verses now extant com- 
posed by him in English. Their intrinsic merit is not, it 
must be admitted, of a high order, but as a literary curiosi- 
ty they will bear repetition — 

" Hervey, would you know the passion 
You have kindled in my breast? 
Trifling is the inclination 

That by words can be express'd. 

I "In my silence see the lover — 

True love is best by silence known ; 
In my eyes you'll best discover 
All the power of your own." 

A curious fortune attended these verses. They were 
subsequently transcribed and addressed to a lady named 
Laura Ilarley — the wife of a London merchant — by one 
of her gallants, and they formed a part of the evidence 
on which her husband grounded his claim for a divorce.* 
This has misled Mr. Parton, who supposes that Voltaire 
wrote them, not in honor of Lady Hervey, but in honor 
of poor Mr. Harley's erring wife. That they awoke no 
jealousy in Lord Hervey is proved by Voltaire's letter to 
Thieriot, dated April, 1732, and by a letter he addressed 

* This circumstance is mentioned by Chateauneuf in his " Les Di- 
vorces Anglais," vol. i., pp. xxxv., xxxvi. "Notions Preliniinaires," and 
is discussed by Desnoiresterres, " La Jeunesse de Voltaire," p. 387. 



210 ESSAYS. 

to Hervey himself in 1740. But the beautiful wife of 
Lord Hervey was not the only lady distinguished by the 
admiration of Yoltaire. He has spoken in rapturous terms 
of the graces and accomplishments of Lady Bolingbroke, 
for whom he finds a place in his " Siecle de Louis XIV. ;" 
and an unpublished letter in the British Museum shows 
that he had paid assiduous court to Lady Sundon, who 
had evidently not been insensible to his flattery.* 

And now we come to a very curious story, a story which 
is related in detail by Ruffhead, and has been repeated by 
Johnson. It had long been suspected by Pope and Boling- 
broke that Voltaire was playing a double part ; in other 
words, that he had formed a secret alliance with the Court 
party, and was acting as their spy. Their suspicion was 
soon confirmed. In February, 1727, appeared the third of 
a series of letters in which the character and policy of 
Walpole were very severely handled. The letter was writ- 
ten with unusual energy and skill ; it attracted much at- 
tention, and Walpole's friends were anxious to discover 
the author. While it was still the theme of conversation 
Voltaire came to Twickenham, and asked Pope if he could 
tell him who wrote it. Pope, seeing his object, and wish- 
ing to prove him, informed him in the strictest confidence 
that he was himself the author of it, *' and," he added, " I 
trust to your honor as a gentleman, Mr. Voltaire, that you 
will communicate this secret to no living soul." The letter 
had really been written by Bolingbroke, and bore in truth 
no traces of Pope's style ; but the next day every one at 
Court was speaking of it as Pope's composition, and Vol- 
taire's treachery was manifest. To this Bolingbroke ap- 
parently alludes in a letter to Swift (May the 18th, 1727) : 
" I would have you insinuate that the only reason Walpole 

* Brit. Mus. Add. MSB., 20,105. 



VOLTAIRE m ENGLAND. 211 

can have to ascribe them (i.€.,ihG occasional letters just al- 
luded to) to a particular person is the authority of one of his 
spies, who wriggles himself into the company of those who 
neither love, esteem, nor fear the Minister, that he may re- 
port, not what he hears, since no man speaks with any free- 
dom before him, but what he guesses." Conduct so scan- 
dalous as this ought not to be lightly imputed to any man, 
and it would be satisfactory to know that Voltaire had either 
been traduced or misrepresented. It is not likely, however, 
that the story was invented by Warburton, from whom Ruff- 
head almost certainly obtained it, and" there is, moreover, 
strong presumptive evidence in its favor. Voltaire had 
undoubtedly been meddling with the matter, for in a letter 
to Thieriot, dated May 27, 1727, he says: "Do not talk 
of the Occasional Writer. Do not say that it is not of my 
Lord Bolinffbroke. Do not say that it is a wretched per- 
formance. You cannot be judge." It is certain that he 
twice received money from the Court ; it is certain that he 
visited Walpole, and that he sought every opportunity to 
ingratiate himself with the King and with the King's 
friends. It is clear that neither Pope nor any member of 
Pope's circle had much confidence in him. Bolingbroke 
has indeed expressly declared that he believed him capable 
of double-dealing and insincerity,* and what Bolingbroke 
observed in him was observed also by Young.f Nor was 
such conduct at all out of keeping with the general tenor 
of Voltaire's behavior during his residence among us. 
Throughout, his aims were purely selfish, and to attain 
his ends he resorted to means which no man of an hon- 
est and Independent spirit would have stooped to use. 

* See his letter to Madame de Fcrriole, dated December, 1*725 ; 
*' Lettres Historiques," vol. iii., p. 274. 
f Spence's " Anecdotes," p. 285. 



212 ESSAYS. 

It would perhaps be unduly liarsli to describe Lim as a 
parasite and a sycophant; but it is nevertheless true that 
he too often figures in a character closely bordering on 
both. His correspondence — and his conversation no 
doubt resembled his correspondence — is almost sicken- 
ing. His compliments are so fulsome, his flattery so 
exaggerated, that they might excusably be mistaken for 
elaborate irony. He seems to be always on his knees. 
There was scarcely a distinguished man then living in Eng- 
land who had not been the object of this nauseous homage. 
He pours it indiscriminately on Pope, Swift, Gay, Clarke, 
on half the Cabinet and on half the peerage. In a man of 
this character falsehood and hypocrisy are of the very es- 
sence of his composition. There is nothing, however base, 
to which he will not stoop ; there is no law in the code of 
social honor which he is not capable of violating.* The 
fact that he continued to remain on friendly terms with 
Pope and Bolingbroke can scarcely be alleged as a proof 
of his innocence, for neither Pope nor Bolingbroke would, 
for such an offence, be likely to quarrel with a man in a 
position so peculiar as that of Voltaire. His flattery was 
pleasant, and his flatter}^ as they well knew, might some 
day be worth having. No injuries are so readily overlooked 
as those which affect neither men's purses nor men's vani- 
ty. Another disagreeable trait in Voltaire's social charac- 
ter was the gross impropriety of his conversation, even in 
the presence of those whose age and sex should have been 
sufficient protection from such annoyance. In one of his 
visits to Pope his talk was, as has been already mentioned, so 
offensive that it absolutely drove Mrs. Pope out of the room.f 

* For an illustration of Voltaire's duplicity and meanness in social 
life, see Horace Wal pole's " Short Notes of my Life." 
f Johnson's "Life of Pope," Ruff head's "Life of Pope." 



VOLTAIKE IN ENGLAND. 213 

Meanwhile he was diligently collecting materials which 
were afterwards embodied in his " LettresPhilosophiques," 
his "Dictionnaire Philosophique," his "Siecle de Lonis 
XIV.," and his "Histoire de Charles XII." First he in- 
vestigated the history and tenets of the Quakers. With 
this object he sought the acquaintance of Andrew Pitt, 
" one of the most eminent Quakers in England, who having 
traded thirty years, had the wisdom to prescribe limits to 
his fortune and desires and settled in a little solitude at 
Hampstead." * And it was in this solitude at Ilampstead 
that Voltaire visited him, dining with him twice. He at- 
tended, also, a Quaker's meeting, of which he gives a very 
amusing account, near the Monument. The substance of 
his conversation with Pitt, supplemented by his own inde- 
pendent study of Quaker literature, he has embodied in the 
article on Quakers in the " Philosophical Dictionary " and 
in the first four " Philosophical Letters." He investigated 
the various religious sects into which English Protestant- 
ism had divided itself, and to these schisms he somewhat 
paradoxically ascribes the harmony and contentment reign- 
ing in the religious world of England. " If," he observes, 
*'only one religion were allowed in England, the govern- 
ment would very possibly become arbitrary ; if there were 
but two, the people would cut one another's throats ; but 
as there are such a multitude, they all live happy and in 
peace." He studied the economy of the Established 
Church, and the habits and character of the clergy. Our 
commerce, our finance, and our government each engaged 
his attention, and on each he has commented with his usual 
superficial cleverness. Three things he observed with es- 
pecial pleasure, because they contrasted so strongly with 

* See obituary notice of Pitt in tlie London Daily Post for April, 
1736. 



214 ESSAYS. 

what he had been accustomed to witness in France. He 
found himself for the first time in his life in the midst of 
a free people, a people who lived unshackled save by laws 
which they had themselves enacted ; a people who, enjoy- 
ing the inestimable privilege of a free Press, were, in the 
phrase of Tacitus, at liberty to think what they pleased 
and to publish what they thought. He beheld a splendid 
and powerful aristocracy, not, as in Paris, standing con- 
temptuously aloof from science and letters, but themselves 
not unfrequently eager candidates for literary and scientific 
distinction. The names of many of these noble authors 
he has recorded, and they are, he adds, more glorious for 
their works than for their titles. With not less pleasure 
he beheld the honorable rank assigned in English society 
to a class who were in the Faubourg St. Germain regarded 
with disdain. Voltaire was perhaps the first writer of emi- 
nence in Europe who had the courage to vindicate the dig- 
nity of trade. He relates with pride how, when the Earl 
of Oxford held the reins of Great Britain "in his hands, his 
younger brother was a factor at Aleppo; how, when Lord 
Townshend was directing the councils of his Sovereign in 
the Painted Chamber, one of his nearest relatives was so- 
liciting custom in a counting-house in the City. He draws 
a sarcastic parallel between a " seigneur, powdered, in the 
tip of the mode, who knows exactly what o'clock the King 
rises and goes to bed, and who gives himself airs of gran- 
deur and state at the same time that he is acting the slave 
in the antechamber of a Prime-minister," and a merchant 
who enriches his country, despatches orders from his count- 
ing-house to Surat and Grand Cairo, and contributes to the 
felicity of the world.* 

* See the remarkable passage at the end of the tenth letter in the 
" Lettrcs Philosophiques." 



VOLTAIRE m ENGLAND. 215 

But nothing impressed him so deeply as the homage 
paid, and paid by all classes, to intellectual eminence. 
Parts and genius were, he observed, a sure passport not, 
as in France, to the barren wreath of the Academy, but to 
affluence and popularity. By his pen Addison had risen 
to one of the highest offices of the State. A few graceful 
poems had made the fortunes of Stepney, Prior, Gay, Par- 
nell, Tickell, and Ambrose Philipps. By his Essays Steele 
liad won a Commissionership of Stamps and a place in 
Parliament. A single comedy had made Congreve inde- 
pendent for life. Newton was Master of the Mint, and 
Locke had been a Commissioner of Appeals. He records 
with pride that the portrait of Walpole was to be seen 
only in his own closet, but that the portraits of Pope were 
to be seen in half the great houses in England. " Go," he 
says, " into Westminster Abbey, and you find that what 
raises the admiration of the spectator is not the mausole- 
ums of the English Kings, but the monuments which the 
gratitude of the nation has erected to perpetuate the mem- 
ory of those illustrious men who contributed to its glory." 
He thought bitterly how iu his own country he had seen 
Crebillon on the verge of perishing by hunger, and the 
son of Racine on the last stage of abject destitution. 
When, too, on his return to France, he saw the body of 
poor Adrienne Lecouvreur refused the last rites of religion, 
and buried witli the burial of a dog, " because she was an 
actress," his thoughts wandered to the generous and large- 
hearted citizens who laid the coffin of Anne Oldfield beside 
the coffins of their kings and of their heroes. 

" rivale d' Athene, Londres ! heureuse terre, 
Ainsi que les tyrans, vous avez su chasser 
Les prejuges honteux qui vous livraient la guerre. 
C'cst Ik qu'oa sait tout dire et tout re'corapcnser. 



216 ESSAYS. 

Nul art n'cst meprise, tout succes a sa gloire. 
Le vainqueur do Tallard, le fils de la victoire, 
Le sublime Dryden, et le sage Addison, 
Et la charraante Oldfield, et rimmortel Newton 

Ont part au temple de memoire, 
Et Lecouvreur k Londre aurait eu des tombeaux 
Parmi les beaux-esprits, les rois et les heros. 
Quicoiique a des talents k Londre est un grand homme." 
La 3Iort de Mile. Lecouvreur. 

In January, 1727, lie had the honor to be introduced to 
tlic King, who received him very graciously.* At the end 
of June he obtained permission from the French Govern- 
ment to visit Paris, but it was on the understanding that 
he was not to remain there for more than three months, 
counting from the day of his arrival. If that time was 
exceeded, it was exceeded at his peril. Of the particulars 
of this visit nothing is known. It is even doubtful whether 
he undertook it. If it was undertaken it was, like the 
former visit, kept a profound secret, even from his most 
intimate friends.f 

SECTION II. 

NOVEMBER, 1727— MARCH, 1728. 

Among the Ashburnham MSS.J there is a curious relic 
of Voltaire's residence in England. It is the Common- 

* British Journal^ January 28, 1726-27, where a special paragraph 
is inserted to commemorate this interview, 

f Desnoiresterrcs asserts that Voltaire did not avail himself of the 
permission given, but remained in England, and this is certainly borne 
out, not only by the absence of any proof of his absence from Eng- 
land, but by Voltaire's own letter to Thieriot, absurdly dated by the 
editors 1753, properly to be dated end of 1728, or spring of 1729. 

\ Barrois, 653. For permission to inspect these most curious notes 
I am indebted to the courtesy and kindness of Lord Ashburnham. 



VOLTAIRE IN ENGLAND. 217 

place-book in which he entered from time to time such 
things as struck him, either in his reading or in what he 
heard in conversation. The memoranda, which are inter- 
spersed with extracts from Italian and Latin poets, are in 
English and French, and they range from traditionary 
witticisms of Rochester, often grossly indecent, and from 
equally indecorous anecdotes and verses picked up no 
doubt in taverns and coffee-houses, to notes evidently in- 
tended for the dedication to " Brutus," the "Life of Charles 
XIL," and the " Letters Philosophiques," and to fragments 
of original poems and translations. They unfortunately 
throw no light on his personal life, beyond communicating 
the not very important fact that he kept a footman. 

The variety and extent of Voltaire's English studies are, 
considering his comparatively short residence in this coun- 
try, and his numerous occupations during that residence, 
amazing. He surveyed us on all sides, and his survey was 
not confined to the living world before him ; it extended 
back to the world of the past, for, as his writings prove, 
be was versed both in our antiquities and in our history. 
But the subjects which most interested him were, as was 
natural, philosophy and polite letters. Li philosophy two 
great movements were at this time passing over England ; 
the one was in a scientific, the other in a theological or 
metaphysical direction ; the one emanated from Bacon and 
Newton, the other from that school of deists which, origi- 
nating with Herbert and Hobbes, had found its modern 
exponents in Tyndal, Toland, Collins, and Woolston. His 
guides in these studies were Bolingbrokc and Dr. Samuel 
Clarke. Of all Newton's disciples, Clarke was the most 
generally accomplished. Li theology, in metaphysics, in 
natural science, in mathematics, and in pure scholarship, 
lie was almost equally distinguished. He had lived on 

10 



218 ESSAYS. 

terms of close intimacy with Newton, whose "Optics" he 
had translated into Latin. He was as minutely versed in 
the writings of Bacon and Locke as in the writings of 
Descartes and Leibnitz ; and of the learned controversies 
of his time there was scarcely one in which he had not 
taken a leading part. AVith this eminent man Voltaire 
first came into contact in the autumn of 1726. At that 
time their conversation turned principally on metaphysics. 
Voltaire was fascinated by the boldness of Clarke's views, 
and blindly followed him. In his own expressive phrase, 
" Clarke sautait dans I'abime, ct j'osai I'y suivre." But he 
soon recovered himself, and was on firm ground again. 

His acquaintance with Clarke probably led to his ac- 
quaintance with another distinguished disciple of Newton. 
This was Dr. Heniy Pemberton. Pemberton was then 
busy preparing for the press the first popular exposition of 
Newton's system, a work which appeared in 1728 under 
the title of " A View of Sir Isaac Newton's Philosophy.'* 
It is clear that Voltaire had seen this work either in proof 
or in manuscript. For in a letter to Thieriot, dated some 
months before the treatise was published, he speaks of it 
in a manner which implies that he had inspected it. It 
was most likely under Pemberton's auspices that he com- 
menced the study of the " Principia" and " Optics" which 
he afterwards resumed more seriously at Cirey. That the 
work was of immense service to him in his Newtonian 
studies is certain. Indeed his own account of the Newto- 
nian philosophy in the "Lettres Philosophiques," and in 
the "Elements de la Philosophic de Newton," is in a large 
measure based on Pemberton's exegesis. 

From Newton, whose " Metaphysics " disgusted him, he 
proceeded to Locke. Locke's " Essay " he perused and 
reperuscd with delight. It became his philosophical gos- 



VOLTAIRE IN ENGLAND. 219 

pel. In his writings and in his conversation lie scarcely 
ever alluded to it except in terms of almost extravagant 
eulogy ; and to Locke he remained loyal to the last. 
"For thirty years," he writes in a letter dated July, 1768, 
" I have been persecuted by a crowd of fanatics because I 
said that Locke is the Hercules of Metaphysics, whp has 
fixed the boundaries of the human mind." * His acquaint- 
ance with Bacon was probably slight, and what he kn£w 
of his Latin works was, we suspect, what he had picked up 
in conversation from Bolingbroke and Clarke. No man 
who had read the "Novum Organum" would speak of it 
as Voltaire speaks of it in his Twelfth Letter. But Ba- 
con's English writings, the " Essays," that is to say, and 
the History of Henry VH., he had certainly consulted. 
He appears also to have turned over the works of Hobbes 
and Cudworth. Berkeley he knew personally, and though 
he was, he said, wiliing to profess himself one of that great 
philosopher's admirers, he was not inclined to become one 
of his disciples. How carefully he had read " Alciphron " 
is proved by his letter to Andrew Pitt.f Nor did his in- 
defatigable curiosity rest here. He took a lively interest 
in natural science, and was acquainted with several mem- 
bers of the Royal Society, and particularly with the vener- 
able President, Sir Hans Sloane, to whom he presented a 
copy of the English Essays.^ Of that society he was 

* See the very interesting letter to Horace Walpole printed in the 
appendix to the " Historical Memoirs of the Author of the Henriade." 

\ This interesting letter, written in English, is printed in Leonard 
Howard's " Collection of Letters," p. G04, Howard's character was 
not above suspicion, but there seems no reason for questioning the 
genuineness of this letter, the original of which was, he says, in the 
hands of one of his friends, 

X See the copy with the autograph inscription in the British Museum. 



220 ESSAYS. 

some years after elected a Fellow, as the arcliivcs of the 
Society still testify.* 

But what most engaged his attention was the contro- 
versy then raging between the opponents and the apolo- 
gists of Christianity. It was now at its height. Upward 
of two years had passed since Anthony Collins had pub- 
lished his " Discourse on the Grounds and Reasons of the 
Christian Religion." No iyork of that kind had made so 
deep an impression on the public mind. It had been de- 
nounced from the pulpit; it had elicited innumerable re- 
plies from the press. Other works of a similar kind suc- 
ceeded, each in its turn aggravating the controversy. In 
1V27 appeared, dedicated to the Bishop of London, the 
first of Woolston's " Six Discourses on the Miracles of 
Christ," a work which brought into the field the most dis- 
tinguished ecclesiastics then living. We believe that Vol- 
taire owed infinitely more to Bolingbroke than to all the 
other English deists put together, but how carefully he 
had followed the course of this controversy is obvious 
from innumerable passages in his subsequent writings. Of 
Woolston, in particular, he always speaks with great re- 
spect, and he has, in an article in the "Dictionnaire Philo- 
sophique," given a long and appreciative account of the 
labors of that courageous freethinker. Nor was his admi- 
ration confined to mere eulogy, for when, three years later, 
Woolston was imprisoned and fined for his heterodox opin- 
ions, Voltaire at once wrote off from France voluntarily to 
be responsible for a third of the sum required. f 

In the winter of 1727 he published a little volume, 
which is not only among the curiosities, but among the 

* He was elected a Fellow on November 3, 1743. — Archives of 
the Royal Societi/. 

f Duvcrnet, " Vic dc Voltaire," p. 72. 



VOLTAIRE IN ENGLAND. 221 

marvels of literature. It contained two essays. The first 
was entitled "An Essay upon the Civil Wars in France," 
the other, " An Essay upon Epic Poetry." Both these es- 
says are composed in English — not in such English as we 
should expect to find written by one who had acquired the 
language, but in such English as would in truth have re- 
flected no discredit on Dryden or Swift. If we remember 
that at the time when he accomplished this feat he had 
only been eighteen months in England, and that he was, as 
he informs us in the preface, writing in a language which 
he was scarcely able to follow in conversation, his achieve- 
ment may be fairly pronounced to be without parallel in 
linguistic triumphs.* As the work is neither generally 
known nor very accessible, we will transcribe a short ex- 
tract from each discourse. The first essay is an historical 
sketch of the civil troubles in France between the acces- 
sion of Francis the Second and the reconciliation of Hen- 
ry the Fourth with the Church of Rome. The character 
and position of the Protestants are thus described : 

" The Protestants began then to grow numerous, and to be conscious 
of their strength. The superstition, the dull, ignorant Ivnavery of the 
monks, the overgrown power of Rome, men's passions for novelty, the 
ambition of Luther and Calvin, the policy of many princes — all these 
had given rise and countenance to this sect, free indeed from super- 
stition, but running as headlong towards anarchy as the Church of 
Rome towards tyranny. The Protestants had been unmercifully per- 
secuted in France, but it is the ordinary effect of persecution to make 
proselytes. Their sect increased every day amid the scaffolds and 
tortures. Conde, Coligni, the two brothers of Coligni, all their adhe- 
rents, all who Avere opposed by the Guises, turned Protestants at once. 

* He told Martin Sherlock that he was never able to pronounce 
the English language perfectly, but that his ear was sensitively alive 
to the harmony of the language and the poetry. — Letters from an 
English Traveller (Letter xxv.). 



222 ESSAYS. 

They united their griefs, their vengeance, and their interests together, 
so that a revolution both in the State and in religion was at hand." 

The second essay, winch is a dissertation on Epic Poet- 
ry, and a review of the principal epic poems of antiquity 
and of modern Europe, is a piece not unworthy of a place 
beside the best of Dryden's prefaces. The remarks on 
Virgil, Lucan, and Tasso are admirable, and the critique 
on " Paradise Lost," which is described as " the noblest 
work which human imagination hath ever attempted," 
gives us a higher idea of Voltaire's critical powers tlian 
any of his French writings. For the account of Camoens 
he is said to have been indebted to Colonel Martin Bladen. 
" I remember," says Warton, in his notes on the " Dunciad" 
"that Collins the poet told me that [his uncle] Bladen had 
given to Voltaire all that account of Camoens inserted in 
his Essay on the Epic Poets, and that Voltaire seemed be- 
fore entirely ignorant of the name and character of Camo- 
ens."* Indeed the whole treatise well deserves attentive 
study. The purity, vigor, and elegance of the style will be 
at once evident from the following extract, which is, we 
may add, a fair average sample : 

" The greatest part of the critics have filched the rules of epic poetry 
from the books of Homer, according to the custom, or rather to the 
Aveakness, of men who mistake commonly the beginning of an art for 
the principles of the art itself, and are apt to believe that everything 
must be by its own nature what it was when contrived at first. But 

* Warton's "Pope," vol. v., p. 284. Though Warton has in this 
passage confused Martin Bladen, the translator of '* Caesar's Commen- 
taries," with Edmund Bladen, who was CoUins's uncle, there is no rea- 
son for doubting the substantial truth of what he reports. That Colo- 
nel Martin Bladen had some special acquaintance with Spanish and 
Portuguese seems certain, from the fact that in 1717 he was offered 
the Envoyship Extraordinary to the Court of Spain, and that in his 
will he leaves legacies to Dr. de Arboleda and Josias Luberdo. 



VOLTAIRE IN ENGLAND. 223 

as Homer wrote two poems of a quite different nature, and as the 
*^neid' of Virgil partakes of the 'Iliad' and of the 'Odyssey,' 
the commentators were forced to estabHsh different rules to reconcile 
Homer with himself, and other new rules again to make Virgil agree 
with Homer, just as the astronomers labored under the necessity of 
adding to or taking from their systems, and of bringing in concentric 
and eccentric circles, as they discovered new motions in the heavens. 
The ignorance of the ancients was excusable, and their search after 
the unfathomable system of nature was to be commended, because it 
is certain that nature hath its own principles, unvariable and unerr- 
ing, and as worthy of our search as remote from our conceptions. 
But it is not with the inventions of art as with tlie works of nature." 

If Voltaire was able after a few months' residence in 
London to produce such prose as this, it is not too mucli 
to say that he might with time and practice have taken his 
place among our national classics. With the exceptions 
of De Lolme and Blanco White, it may be doubted wheth- 
er any writer to whom English was an acquired language 
has achieved so perfect a mastery over it. It is, however, 
not improbable that he obtained more assistance in com- 
posing these essays than his vanity would allow him to 
own. The Abbe Desfontaines asserts, indeed, that the Es- 
say on Epic Poetry was composed in French, and that it 
was then translated into English under the superintendence 
of Voltaire's " maitre de langue."* But the testimony of 
that mean and malijrnant man carries little weio^ht, and if 
it had not been partially, at least, confirmed by Spence we 
should have left it unnoticed. What Spence says is this: 
*' Voltaire consulted Dr. Young about his essay in English, 
and begged him to correct any gross faults he might find 
in it. The doctor set very honestly to work, marked the 
passages most liable to censure, and when he went to ex- 
plain himself about them, Voltaire could not avoid burst- 
^ " La Voltairomanie," p. 46. 



224 ESSAYS. 

ing out a-langliing in his face." The reason of this ill- 
timed merriment it is not very easy to see : the anecdote 
is, perhaps, imperfectly reported. But in spite of Desfon- 
taines and Spence, there can be no doubt that the Essays 
are what they pretend to be, the genuine work of Voltaire. 
We have only to turn to his English correspondence at 
this period to see that he was quite equal to their produc- 
tion. The little book was favorably received. In the fol- 
lowing year a second edition was called, for, a third followed 
at no long interval, and in 1731 it reached a fourth; a 
Discourse on Tragedy, which is merely a translation of the 
French "Discours sur la Tragedie" prefixed to Brutus, be- 
ing added. And it long held its own. Its popularity is 
sufficiently attested by the fact that in 1760 it was reprint- 
ed at Dublin, with a short notice attributed, but attributed 
erroneousl}^ to Swift, who had of course been long dead. 

Voltaire was not the man to waste his energy on the 
production of a mere tour de force. The volume had an 
immediate practical object. That object was to prepare 
the public for the appearance of the " Ilenriade,"' which 
was now receiving the finishing touches, and was ahiiost 
ready for the printer. It was probably to facilitate its 
publication that he removed about this time (end of 1727) 
from Wandsworth to London, where he resided, as the su- 
perscriptions of two of his letters show, in Maiden Lane, 
Covcnt Garden, at the sign of the White Peruke. Nor 
is Maiden Lane the only part of London associated with 
Voltaire during this period. It would seem that Billiter 
Square is entitled to the honor of having once numbered 
him among its occupants. This we gather from an un- 
dated letter addressed to John Brinsden,Bolingbroke's con- 
fidential secretary,* in which Brinsden is directed to ad- 

* Preserved in Colet's " Relics of Literature," p. 70. 



VOLTAIRE IN ENGLAND. 225 

dress his reply to Mr. Cavalier, Bel itery (sic) Square, by the 
Royal Exchange, a request which Voltaire would scarcely 
have made had he not been residing there. In Bill iter 
Square, which is described by a contemporary topographer 
as " a very handsome, open, and airy place, with good new 
brick buildings," he would be within a few paces of his 
agents, Messrs. Simon & Benezet. 

Of the many letters which were doubtless Avritten by 
him at this time, some have been preserved. One is ad- 
dressed to Swift, to whom he had a few months before 
given a letter of introduction to the Count de Morville. 
He sends him a copy of the Essays, professes himself a 
o-reat admirer of his writino-s, informs him that the "Hen- 
riade" is almost ready, and asks him to exert his interest 
to procure subscribers in Ireland. In another letter he so- 
licits the patronage of the Earl of Oxford, informing him 
of the distinguished part which one of his ancestors plays 
in the " Ilenrlade," alluding to his own personal acquaint- 
ance with Achilles de Harley, and importuning the earl to 
grant him the favor of an interview.* With Thieriot, on 
^vhom he relied to push the poem in France, he regularly 
corresponded. Meanwhile popular curiosity was stimulated 
by successive advertisements in the newspapers, and in Janu- 
niy, 1728, an elaborate puff appeared in the columns of the 
leading literary periodical : " We hope every day," so runs 
the notice, " to see Mr. De Voltaire's ' Ilenriade.' He has 
greatly raised the expectations of the curious by a beautiful 
Essay he lately published upon the Civil Wars of France, 
which is the subject of his poem, and upon the Epic Poets, 
from Homer down to Milton. As this gentleman seems to 
be thoroughly acquainted with all the best poets, both an- 

* Unpiinted letter among the manuscripts at Longleat, for a copy 
of which I am indebted to the kindness of the librarian. 

10* 



226 ESSAYS. 

cicnt and modern, and judges so well of their beauties and 
faults, we have reason to hope that the * Henriade ' will be 
a finished performance, and as he writes with uncommon 
elegance and force in English, though lie has been but eigh- 
teen months in this country, we expect to find in his poem 
all that beauty and strength of which his native language 
is capable."* 

All through the summer and winter of 1727 he was 
hard at work on the manuscript or the proofs.f But this 
was not the only task he had in hand. He was busy with 
his " Essai sur la Poesie Epique," which is not, he is care- 
ful to explain, a translation of his English essay, but an 
independent work, a work of which the English essay was 
to be regarded as the preliminary sketch. J; It was after- 
wards prefixed to the " Henriade." A comparative study 
o^ the two will show with what skill he adapts himself, 
even as a critic, to the countrymen of Boileau and Racine 
on the one hand, and to the countrymen of Milton and 
Addison on the other. 

At last the " Henriade " was ready. It was first an- 
nounced, in a succession of advertisements, that it would 
appear in February (1728) ; it was then announced in a 
second succession of advertisements that it would appear 
in March, and in March it was published. The subscribers 
had at first been alarmingly slow in coming forward ; but 
when the day of publication arrived the names on the sub- 
scription list amounted to three hundred and forty-four; 
and among the subscribers were the King, the Queen, and 
the heads of almost all the noble families connected with 
the Court. In its first form the poem had been dedicated 

* " Present State of the Republic of Letters," vol. i., p. 88. 

f Letter to Thieriot, dated August, 1728. 

X See bis English letter to Thi6riot, dated 14th of June, 1727. 



VOLTAIRE IN ENGLAND. 227 

to Louis XV. That dedication was now cancelled, and a 
dedication, written in flowing English, to Queen Caroline 
was substituted. Descartes, said the poet, had inscribed 
his " Principles " to the Princess Palatine Elizabeth, not 
because she was a princess, but because of all his readers 
she understood him best; he too, without presuming to 
compare himself to Descartes, had ventured to lay his 
work at the feet of a queen who was not only a patroness 
of all arts and sciences, but the best judge of them also. 
" He reminded her that an English Queen, the great Eliza- 
beth, had been the protectress of Henry IV., and by 
whom," he asked, " can the memory of Henry be so well 
protected as by one who so much resembles Elizabeth in 
her personal virtues?" The Queen was not insensible of 
the honor which had been paid her, and the fortunate poet 
received a substantial mark of the royal gratitude. It is 
not easy to determine the exact sum. Voltaire himself 
states it to have been two thousand crowns (ecus), which 
would, supposing he means English crowns, have been 
equivalent to five hundred pounds sterling. Baculard says 
it was "six mille livres.""** Nor was this all. The King 
honored him with his intimacy, and invited him to his 
private supper parties.f Goldsmith adds, but adds errone- 
ously, that the Queen presented him with her portrait. A 
portrait of Queen Caroline Voltaire certainly possessed, 
but it was a medallion, and it came to him, not from the 
Queen herself, but through the hands of the Countess de 
la Lippe from the Queen of Prussia.^ The poem suc- 
ceeded beyond his most sanguine expectation. Every j 

* Pre'face d'une Edition des (Euvres de M. de Voltaire, Longchamp * 
ct Wagui^re, vol. ii., p. 492. 
f Ibid., same page. 
X Voltaire, " Gorrespondance Geu6rale," July 22d, 1*728. 



228 ESSAYS. 

copy of the quarto impression was disposed of before the ]i 
day of publication. In the octavo form, three editions 
were exhausted in less than three weeks, " and this I attrib- 
ute," he says in a letter to a friend, " entirely to the hap- 
py choice of the subject, and not to the merit of the poem 
itself." Owing to the carelessness of Thieriot, he lost the 
subscription money due to him from France, but the sum 
realized in England was undoubtedly considerable. It has 
been variously estimated: Nicolardot, in his "Menage ct 
Finances de Voltaire," calculates it to have been ten thou- 
sand francs ; and that is the lowest computation. Baculard 
asserts that from the quarto edition (edition imjyrimee 2^0.1' 
souscriptions) alone the poet cleared ten thousand crowns. 
Perhaps we should not be far wrong if we estimated the 
sum, including the money received from George II., at two 
thousand pounds sterling. Whatever it was, it formed the 
nucleus of the most princely fortune ever ye,t amassed by 
a man of letters.* The publication of the "Henriade" 
involved Voltaire in a very disagreeable controversy with 
two of his countrymen. He had out of pure kindness 
given permission to one Coderc, a publisher in Little New- 
port Street, near Leicester Fields, to print an edition of the 
poem for his own benefit ; of this permission Coderc made 
an assignment to another publisher named Prevost. Ac- 
cordingly in March, 1728, almost immediately after the 
appearance of the authentic editions, appeared in the Daily 
Post an announcement of a new issue of the " Henriade." 
It was printed — so it was stated — with the author's privi- 
lege, and to the advertisement a postscript was added to 
the effect that the poem now appeared for the first time 

* Carlyle (" Life of Frederick," vol. iii., p. 220) computes Voltaire's 
annual income during his latter years to have been, according to the 
money value of the present day, about £20,000. 



VOLTAIRE IN ENGLAND. 229 

uncastrated and in its integrity. All that Prevost had 
really done was to substitute six bad verses, taken from 
the poem in its earlier form, for six good verses in the 
later recension. Voltaire, justly annoyed at this audacious 
stratagem on the part of a piratical bookseller, at once re- 
plied by inserting a counter advertisement both in the 
Daily Post and in the Daily Journal: "This is to give 
notice that I never gave any privilege to I'revost, but I 
was betrayed into such kindness for one Coderc as to grant 
him leave of printing my book for his own benefit, pro- 
vided he should sell none before mine had been delivered. 
It is a thing unheard of that a bookseller dares to sell my 
own work in another manner than I have printed it and 
call my own edition castrated. The truth of the matter 
is that he has printed six bad and insignificant low lines, 
which were not mine, printed in a former edition of *La 
Ligue,' and in the room of which there are six others a 
great deal bolder and stronger in the Henriade."* To 
this Prevost replied in the columns of the same paper, de- 
fending the course he had taken, and flatly contradicting 
what Voltaire asserted. The two notices continued to ap- 
pear in the advertisement sheet of the Daily Post till the 
end of March. There can be no doubt that this contro- 
vei^y was of great service in advertising the poem. In- 
deed we are half inclined to suspect that the whole thing 
was got up by Voltaire for that purpose. He certainly 
bore Prevost no ill-will afterwards.f The money realized 
from the sale of the " Henriade " was the more acceptable 
as it was sorely needed. For upwards of a year he had 

* Daily Post, March 21, 1728. 

f For the controversy, see advertisement sheets of the Daily Post 
from March 21st to March 30tli, and of the Daily Journal of same 
date. 



230 ESSAYS. 

been in straightened circumstances. To live in society- 
was then an expensive luxury, and the expenses were great- 
ly swelled by the fees which the servants of the aristocracy 
were permitted to levy on their masters' guests. At no 
house in London did the abuse reach a higher pitch than 
at Lord Chesterfield's ; and Voltaire, who dined there once, 
was so annoyed at the imposition, that, on Chesterfield 
asking him to repeat his visit, he declined, sarcastically 
adding that his lordship's ordinary was too dear.* His 
wretched health had, moreover, necessitated medical at- 
tendance and thus had added greatly to his expenses. As 
early as February, 1727, we find him complaining of these 
difficulties to Thieriot : " Vous savez peut-etre que les 
banqueroutes sans ressource que j'ai essuyees en Angle- 
terre" (an allusion of course to his mishap with Acosta), 
" le retranchement de mes rentes, la perte de mes pensions, 
et les depenses que m'ont coiitees les maladies dont j'ai 
ete accable ici, m'ont reduit a un etat bien dur."f He 
was now enabled to relieve the necessities of his unfort- 
unate fellow-countrymen, many of whom were assisted 
by him when he was in London, particularly one St. Hya- 
cinthe.J 

When the poem was passing through the press a curious 
incident occurred. A proof-sheet of the first page had by- 
some accident found its way into the hands of one Dadichy, 
a Smyrniote Greet, who was at that time residing as an 
interpreter in London, and who appears to have been a 
scholar of some pretensions. The poem then opened, not 
with the simple ringing verses with which it now opens, 

* John Taylor's *' Memoirs," vol. i., p. 330. 
f " Correspondance Generale," 1727. 
jj. Duvernet, p. 72. 



VOLTAIRE IK ENGLAND. 231 

but with a series of verses of which the first couplet may 
serve as a specimen : 

" Je chante les combats et ce roi genereux, 
Qui for9a les Fran9ais h devcnir heureux." 

The man whose taste had been formed on purer models 
was justly offended by this obscure and forced epigram. He 
made his way to Voltaire's residence, and abruptly announc- 
ing himself as the " countryman of Homer," proceeded to in- 
form him that Homer never opened his poems with strokes 
of wit and enigmas. Voltaire had the good sense to take the 
hint given him by his eccentric visitor, and the lines were 
altered into the lines with which all the world is familiar.* 
We liavc not, after a careful search, been able to find 
any notice or critique of the " Henriade " in journals then 
current in London, But before the year was out there ap- 
peared in an edition, published by a firm in Russell Street, 
Covent Garden, some remarks which are, no doubt, a fair 
indication of the impression made by the poem on the 
mind of contemporary England. The writer, who writes 
in French, begins by observing that as a rule he cares little 
for French poetry, it lacks energy, and it is monotonous, 
but in the "Henriade" he discerns qualities which he has 
not discerned elsewhere in the verse of Frenchmen ; it is 
various, brilliant, and forcible. But he is, he says, at a loss 
to understand how a poet whose conception of the deity 
is so wise and noble could have selected for his hero a 
character so contemptible as Henri Quatre, who was not 
merely a Papist but a Papist " par lache interest." f He 

* For this anecdote see " Henriade," Variantes du Chant Premier. 

f " La Henriade de M"". de Voltaire." Seconde edition revue, cor- 
rigee et augmentee de rcmarques critiques sur cet ouvrage. A Lon- 
dres chez Woodman et Lyon, duns Russel Street, Covent Garden, 1'728. 



232 ESSAYS. 

is angry that Voltaire should, throughout the poem, lean 
so decidedly to the side of Popery ; he is still more angry 
that he should have placed on the same footing Popery 
and Protestantism, for the essence of Popery is intoler- , 
ance, and the essence of Protestantism is enlightened toler- j 
ation. *' You arrived in our island," he goes on to say, / 
" with a book against our religion, and we received you 
with open arms, our king and our queen presented you 
with money. I wonder," he continues, " how an English- 
man who introduced himself to Cardinal Flcury with an 
attack on Popery would be likely to fare." He concludes 
by hoping that Voltaire will continue to reside in England, 
and he exhorts him to prepare " une nouvelle edition moins 
Papiste de la ' Henriade.' " This critique purported to be 
the work of an English nobleman. It was in reality the ' 
work of a French refugee named Paget. Voltaire was 
greatly amused at his being taken for a Catholic propa- 1 
gandist.'^' " You will see," he writes in a letter to a friend \ 
in France, " by some annotations tacked to my book, and/ 
fathered upon an English lord, that I am here a confessor 
of Catholic religion." To this criticism he made no reply 
during his residence in England, but on its reappearance 
under another title in an edition of the " Henriade" printed 
at the Hague he answered it. 

It was probably during his sojourn cither in Maiden 

* And it is not less amusing to us to find him thus writing to 
P^re Poree : " Surtout, mon reverend perc, je vous supplie instam- 
ment de vouloir m'instruire si 3'ai parle de hx religion comme je le 
dois ; car, s'il y a sur cet article quelques expressions qui vous de- 
plaisent ne doutez pas que je ne les corrige a la premiere edition que 
Ton pourra faire encore de mon poeme. T'ambitionne votre estime 
non seulemont comme auteur mais comme Chretien." — Correspon- 
dance Generale. Annce 1728. 



VOLTAIRE IN ENGLAND. 233 

Lane or in Billiter Square that his adroitness and fluent 
mastery over our language saved him from what might 
otherwise have been an unpleasant adventure. He chanced 
one day to be strolling along the streets when his peculiar 
appearance attracted attention. A crowd collected, and 
some ribald fellow began with jeers and hoots to taunt him 
with being a Frenchman. Nothing is so easily excited as 
the passions of a rabble, and the passions of a rabble, when 
their victim is defenceless, rarely exhaust themselves in 
words. The miscreants were already preparing to pelt 
him with mud, and mud would no doubt have been fol- 
lowed with missiles of a more formidable kind. But Vol- 
taire was equal to the crisis. Boldly confronting his as- 
sailants, he mounted on a stone which happened to be at 
hand, and began an oration of which the first sentence 
only has been preserved. " Brave Englishmen !" he cried, 
" am I not sufficiently unhappy in not having been born 
among you?" How he proceeded we know not, but his 
harangue was, if we are to believe Wagniere, so effective 
that the crowd was not merely appeased, but eager to 
carry him on their shoulders in triumph to his lodgings."^ 
This was not the only occasion on which he experienced 
the rudeness with which the vulgar were in those days ac- 
customed to treat his countrymen. He happened to be 
taking the air on the river when one of the men in charge 
of the boat, perceiving that his passenger was a French- 
man, began to boast of the superior privileges enjoyed by 
English subjects; he belonged, he said, not to a land of 
slaves but to a land of freemen. Warming with his theme, 
the fellow concluded his offensive remarks by exclaiming 
with an oath that he would rather be a boatman on the 
Thames than an archbishop in France. The sequel of'tlie 

* Longchamp and Wagniere, vol. i., p. 23. 



234 ESSAYS. 

story is amusing. Within a few hours the man had been 
seized by a press-gang, and next day Voltaire saw him at 
the window of a prison with his legs manacled and his 
hand stretched through the bars, craving ahns. "What 
think you now of a French archbishop?" he cried. "Ah, 
sir !" replied the captive, " the abominable government 
have forced me away from my wife and children to serve 
in a king's ship, and have thrown me into prison and 
chained my feet for fear I should escape before the ship 
sails." A French gentleman who was with Voltaire at the 
time owned that he felt a malicious pleasure at seeing that 
the English, who were so fond of taunting their neighbors 
with servitude, w^ere in truth quite as much slaves them- 
selves. " But I," adds Voltaire in one of those noble re- 
flections which so often flash across his pages, "felt a sen- 
timent more humane : I was grieved to think that thero 
was so little liberty on the earth."* 

It appears from Atterbury's " Correspondence," that 
about the time the " Henriade " was published Voltaire 
had also published an ode written in English, but of that 
ode, after a most careful search, we have been able to find 
no trace.f 

SECTION III. 

APRIL, 1728— MARCH, 1729. 

As soon as the " Henriade " was off his hands he ap- 
plied himself steadily to his History of Charles XII. In 
the composition of this delightful biography, which he ap- 

* See for the whole story his Letter to M***, " (Euvres Completes " 
(Beuchot), vol. xxxviii,, p. 22. 

t See Atterbury's " Correspondence," vol. iv., p. 114. Nicholls (see 
his note) was equally unsuccessful. 



VOLTAIRE IN ENGLAND. 235 

pears to have begun as early as 1727, he was greatly as- 
sisted by Von Fabricc. Few men then living knew more 
of the public and private life of the great Swede than Fa- 
brice, and what he knew he liberally communicated. Much 
useful information was derived from Bolingbroke and the 
Dowager Duchess of Marlborough. But Charles XII. was 
not the only work with which he was occupied. He be- 
gan, prompted by Bolingbroke and inspired by Shake- 
speare and Lee, the tragedy of " Brutus," the first act of 
which he sketched in English prose. We give a short 
specimen of the original draught, which the reader may 
find it interesting to compare with the corresponding pas- 
sage in the French text as it now stands. It is the speech 
of Brutus in the second scene of the first act : 

^^ Brutus. Allege not ties: his (Tarquin's) crimes have broken 
them all. The gods themselves, whom he has offended, have de- 
clared against him. Which of our rights has he not trod upon? 
True, we have sworn to be his subjects, but we have not sworn to be 
his slaves. You say you've seen our Senate, in humble snppliance, 
pay him their vows. Even he himself has sworn to be our father, 
and make the people happy in his guidance. Broken from his oaths, 
we are let loose from ours. Since he has transgressed our laws, his 
is the rebellion, Rome is free from guilt." 

This tragedy, which he completed on his return to 
Paris, he dedicated to Bolingbroke. Mr. Barton in his 
list of Voltaire's writings enters among them an edition 
of "Brutus," published in London in 1727. Of that edi- 
tion after a laborious search we can find no trace. It was 
certainly unknown to Desnoiresterres, to Beuchot, and to 
all the editors ; and — what is, we think, final — there is no 
mention of it in the exhaustive bibliography of Voltaire, 
just published by M. Georges Bengesco. Mr. Parton has, 
we suspect, been misled by an ambiguous paragraph at the 



236 ESSAYS. 

end of the preface to the fourth edition of the " Essay on 
Epic Poetry." 

At Wandsworth, or possibly in London, he sketched also 
another tragedy, a tragedy which was not, however, com- 
pleted till 1734. This was " La Mort de Cesar," suggested, 
as we need scarcely say, by the masterpiece of Shakespeare.* 
Meanwhile (end of 1728) he was engaged in the composi- 
tion of those charming letters which were afterwards pub- 
lished in English under the title of "Letters concerning the 
English Nation," and in French under the title of "Lettres 
Philosophiques." They were addressed to his friend Thie- 
riot, and under Thieriot's auspices (par Ics soins de Thie- 
riot) were translated into English. The publication of the 
English translation preceded the publication of the French 
original. The first French editions appeared in 1734, but 
two editions had appeared in English during the preceding 
year, one printed in London, and the other in Dublin. But 
the indefatigable energy of Voltaire did not exhaust itself 
in study and composition. It appears from Duvernet, that 
lie attempted to open a permanent French theatre in Lon- 
don, and with this object he induced a company of Parisian 
actors td come over ; but the project met with so little en- 
couragement that he was forced to abandon it, and the 
company went back almost immediately to Paris.f 

In the midst of these multifarious pursuits he had found 
time to peruse almost everything of note both in our poet- 
ry and in our prose. He began with Shakespeare, whose 
principal dramas he studied with minute attention, analyz- 
ing the structure, the characterization, the diction. His 
criticisms on Shakespeare are, it is true, seldom cited ex- 
cept to be laughed at, but the defects of these criticisms 

* See " (Euvrcs Completes " (edit. 1877), vol. ii., note. 
f Duvernet, p. 72. 



VOLTAIRE m ENGLAND. 237 

originated neither from ignorance nor from inattention. 
Ilis real opinion of Shakespeare is not to be gathered 
from the"Des Theatres Anglais" and from the"Lettres 
a FAcademie," but from the " Lettres Philosophiques " 
and from the admirable letter to Horace Walpole.* The 
influence of Shakespeare on Voltaire's own tragedies is 
very perceptible, and the extent of that influence will be / 
at once apparent if we compare the plays produced before / 
his visit to England with the plays produced on his return / 
to France, if we compare " Qj^dipe," " Artemise," and "Ma-/ 
rianne," with " Brutus," " Eryphile," and " Zaire." " Bru-i 
tus" and "La Mort de Cesar" flowed not more certainlJ 
from Julius Caesar than " Zaire " from " Othello ;" whil^ 
reminiscences of "Hamlet" are unmistakable both in "Ery- 
phile" and in " Semiramis." The first three acts of "Ju- 
lius Csesar " he subsequently translated into French, and he 
has in the " Lettres Philosophiques " given an admirable 
version of the famous soliloquy in "Hamlet." Milton he 
studied, as his " Essay on Epic Poetry " and his article on 
the Epopee f prove, with similar diligence. He had, in 
addition to " Paradise Lost," read " Paradise Regained " 
and " Samson Agonistes," neither of which he thought of 
much value. He was well acquainted with the poems, the 
dramas, and the essays of Dryden, and with the writings 
of Dryden's contemporaries. Garth's J "Dispensary" he 
carefully studied, and places above the " Lutrin." Even 
such inferior poets as Oldham, Roscommon, Dorset, Shef- 
field, Halifax, and Rochester had not escaped his curious 
eye. Rochester, indeed, he pronounced to be a poet of 
great genius; he puts his satires on a level with those of 

* Dated Ferney, July, 1768. " Correspondance Generale," vol. xiv. 
f " Dictionnaire Philosophique," article " Epopee." 
I Ibid.^ article " Burlesque." 



238 ESSAYS. 

Boilean, and in one of the "Philosophical Letters" (the 
twenty-first) he turns a portion of the satire on Man into 
French heroics. With the poems of Denham he was great- 
ly pleased ; and of Waller, whose " Elegy on the Death of 
Cromwell" he has translated into French verse, he speaks 
in terms of enthusiastic admiration, ranking him above 
Voiture, and observing that " his serious compositions ex- 
hibit a strength and vigor which could not have been ex- 
pected from the softness and fluency of his other pieces." 
He read Otway, whom singularly enough he underrated, 
and of whose " Orphan " he has, in his " Appel a Toutes 
les Nations," given a sarcastic analysis. lie was acquaint- 
ed with Lee's tragedies, and he enjoyed the comedies of 
Wycherley, Vanbrugh, and Congreve, on which he has left 
many just and interesting observations. Indeed he did 
Vanbrugh the honor to steal from him many of the inci- 
dents, most of the characters, and the whole of the under- 
plot of the " Relapse." It is singular that the French edi- 
tors who are careful to point out that " Le Comte de Bour- 
souffle Comedie Bouffe " is merely a recast of " L'Echange 
Comedie en trois actes," should have omitted to notice that 
both of them are simply Yanbrugh's play in a French dress. 
But nothing illustrates his mastery over our language 
and his power of entering into the spirit of our literature, 
even when that literature is most esoteric, so strikingly as 
his remarks on " Hudibras." " I never found," he says, 
" so much wit in any single book as that. It is ' Don 
Quixote' and the 'Satire Menippee' blended together." 
Of the opening lines he has, in the " Lettres Philosophiques," 
given a French version, reproducing with extraordinary fe- 
licity both the metre and the spirit. With not less pleas- 
ure he perused the poems of Prior. In the " Philosophical 
Dictionary" he devotes an article to him, and in another 



VOLTAIRE IN ENGLAND. 239 

article he pauses to draw attention to the merits of "Alma." 
With the essays and poems of Addison, whom he pro- 
nounces to be the best critic as well as the best writer of 
his age, he was well acquainted.* His "Allegories" he 
has imitated ; f his " Campaign " he took as the model for 
" Fontenoy ;" from his criticism on Milton he has bor- 
rowed ; and his " Cato " he placed at the head of English 
tragedies. Indeed, he has gone so far as to say that the 
principal character in that drama is the " greatest that was 
ever brought upon any stage." His observations upon the 
defects of the play are less open to question, and prove 
that if he had the bad taste to prefer Addison to Shake- 
speare, he was sufiBciently acquainted with the history of 
our drama to be able to point out in what way the appear- 
ance of " Cato " marked an era in its development. To 
the genius of Swift he paid enthusiastic homage. He 
owed, he said, to Swift's writings the love he bore to the 
English language. He considered him immeasurably su- 
perior to Rabelais; and he was so delighted with "Gulli- 
ver's Travels" that he encouraged his friend Thieriot to 
undertake a translation of them into French, judiciously 
advising him, however, to confine his efforts to the first 
part. His own " Micromegas " is largely indebted to " Gul- 
liver." Nor did his nice and discriminating appreciation 
end here. Voltaire was the first critic who drew attention 
to the peculiar merits of Swift's verses.J 

With the poems and tragedies of Thomson he was, as a 

* For his remarks on Cato, see " Dietionnaire Philosophiqiie," ar- 
ticle " Addison," where he gives a French version of Cato's Soliloquy. 

t See particularly the Vision in section ii. of the article on " Re- 
ligion" in the "Philosophical Dictionary," 

X " Lettres Philosophiques," xxii. ; see, too, " Lettres, A. S. A. M"' 
Lc Prince Melanges," v. 489. 



240 ESSAYS. 

very interesting letter to George, Lord Lyttelton, shows,* 
tborouglily conversant. " I was acquainted," so runs the 
letter, which is written in English and is dated Paris, May 
17, 1750 (n.s.), " with Mr. Thomson when I stayed in Eng- 
land. I discovered in him a great genius and a great sim- 
plicity. I liked in him the poet and the true philosopher, 
I mean the lover of mankind. I think that without a good 
stock of such a philosophy a poet is just above a fiddler 
who amuses our ears and cannot go to our soul. I am not 
surprised your nation has done more justice to Mr. Thom- 
son's * Seasons ' than to his dramatic performances." As 
this letter is an interesting specimen of Voltaire's compo- 
sition nearly twenty years after he had left us, our readers 
may perhaps like to sec more of it. We will, therefore, 
transcribe a few paragraphs. lie is accounting for the 
comparative indifference with which the English public 
regarded Thomson's tragedies. 

"There is one kind of poetry of which the judicious readers and 
the men of taste are the proper judges. There is another kind, that 
depends on the vulgar great or small ; tragedy and comedy are of 
these last species ; they must be suited to the turn of mind and pro- 
portioned to their taste. Your nation two hundred years since is used 
to a wild scene, to a crowd of tumultuous events, to an emphatical 
poetry mixed with low and comical expressions, to a lively represen- 
tation of bloody deeds, to a kind of horror which seems often bar- 
barous and childish, all faults which never sullied the Greek, the 
Roman, and the French stage. And give me leave to say that the 
taste of your politest countrymen differs not much in point of tragedy 
from the taste of the mob at bear-gardens. 'Tis true we have too 
much of action, and the perfection of this art should consist in a due 
mixture of the French taste and the English energy. . . . Mr. Thom- 
son's tragedies seem to me wisely intricated and elegantly writ. They 

* This letter is among the archives at Hagley, and I am indebted 
for a copy of it to the great kindness of Lord Lyttelton. 



VOLTAIRE IX ENGLAND. 241 

want, perhaps, some fire, and it may be that his heroes are neither 
moving nor busy enough, but taking him all in all, methinks he has 
the highest claims to the greatest esteem." 

The poetry of Pope he read and reread with an admi- 
ration which occasionally expresses itself in hyperbole. The 
"Essays on Criticism" he preferred both to the master- 
piece of Horace and to the " Art Poetique " of Boileaii ; 
the "Rape of the Lock" he considered the best mock he- 
roic poem in existence; and the "Essay on Man," which 
appeared about five years after he had returned to France, 
he describes as " the most beautiful didactic poem — the 
most useful — the most sublime — that has ever been writ- 
ten in any language."* 

It would be interesting to trace the influence of Pope's 
poetry upon Voltaire's. We can here only pause to point 
out that the " Temple du Gout " was undoubtedly sug- 
gested by the "Dunciad," that the "Le Desastre de Lis- 
bonne " and the " Discourse en vers sur I'llomme " bear the 
impress of the " Essay on Man," and that " La Roi Natu 
relle " was certainly modelled on it. 

At the beginning of 1729 he prepared to quit England 
for his native country. There was now, indeed, nothing to 
detain him. He had published the " Henriade ;" he had 
completed his collections for the "Lettrcs Philosophiques;" 
he had collected materials for the " Siecle de Louis XIV.," 
and for the " History of Charles XII. ;" he had made what 
friends he cared to make ; he had seen, all he wished to 
see ; and, what was of equal importance to him, he had 
made money. But it would be doing him great injustice 

* See, too, " Parallele d'Horace, de Boileau, et de Pope," where he 
says of the Essay, " Jamais vers ne formeret tant de grandes idees en 
si peu de paroles." — Melanges, vol. iii., p. 22-i. See, too, " Lettrcs 
Philosophiques," xxii. 

11 



242 . ESSAYS. 

to suppose that the only tics which bound him to England 
were ties of self-interest. He had become sincerely at- 
tached to the country and to the people. "Had I not 
been obliged," he said in a letter to Thieriot, " to look af- 
ter my affairs in France, depend upon it I would have 
spent the rest of my days in London." And again, many 
years afterwards, he wrote in a letter to his friend Ke;ite : 
" Ilad I not fixed the seat of my retreat in the free corner 
of Geneva I would certainly live in the free corner of Eng- 
land. I have been for thirty years the disciple of your 
ways of thinking." * The kindness and hospitality which 
he received he never forgot, and he took every opportuni- 
ty of repaying it. To be an Englishman was always a cer- 
tain passport to his courteous consideration. When, in 
1776, JSIartin Sherlock visited him at Ferney he found the 
old man, then in his eighty-third year, still full of his visit 
to England. He had had the garden laid out in the Eng- 
lish fashion; the books with which he was surrounded 
were the English classics, the subject to which he persist- 
ently directed the conversation was the English nation. f 

His departure from England is said to have been hast- 
ened by a quarrel with his bookseller, Prevost; and a 
story was afterwards circulated by Desfontaines, that, pre- 
vious to his departure, he w'as severely cudgelled by an in- 
furiated member of the trade — for what reason, and under 
what circumstances, is not recorded. J However this may 
be, it seems clear that he had either done or said something 
which had made him enemies : there was certainly an im- 

•^ Voltaire to Keatc, January 16, 1*760, British Mus. Addit. MSS. 
30,99i. 

f "Letters from an English Traveller" (Letter xxiv.). 

■| See "La Voltairomanie," p. 3*7, and cf. Desnoircslerres, "La 
Jeunessc de Voltaire," p. 397. 



VOLTAIRE IX ENGLAXD. 243 

pression in the Diinds of some that he quitted Enghind un- 
der a cloud. In a notice of the " History of Charles XII." ■ 
in the Gentleman's Magazine for May, 1732, the writer as- . 
sorts that " Mr. Voltaire enriched himself with our con- \ 
tributions and behaved so ill that he was refused admit- 
tance into those noblemen's and gentlemen's families in 
which he had been received with great favor and distinc- 
tion. He left England full of resentment, and wrote the 
King of Sweden's Life to abuse this nation and the Hano- 
verian family." The latter statement is, as we need scarce- i 
ly say, quite untrue ; the former statement is as plainly a 1 
gross exaggeration. A very disgraceful story connected 
with his departure from England appeared some years 
later in the columns of the same periodical.''^ It is there 
stated that Peterborough, wishing to have a certain work 
written, had commissioned Yoltaire, then his guest, to do 
it, and had supplied him from time to time with the mon- 
ey necessary to defray the expenses of publication. But 
these sums, instead of paying them over to the publisher, 
who had, on the strength of the first instalment, put a por- 
tion of the work into type, Voltaire appropriated to his 
own use. He then proceeded to play a double game. He 
told the publisher, who for want of funds had stopped the 
press, that Peterborough would advance nothing further 
till the book was out. To Peterborough, on the other 
hand, he accounted for the delay in publication by attrib- 
uting it to the dilatoriness of the publisher. At last the 
publisher, justly considering that he had been treated very 
liardl}", determined to apply to Peterborough himself. 
With this object he had an interview with him at Par- 
son's Green. All was explained. The earl, so far from 

* See a letter to the editor of the Gentleman'' s Magazine^ vol. Ixvii., 
part ii., p. 820 sqq.y sigued E. L. B,, iu the number for October, HDY. 



244 ESSAYS. 

being guilty of the injustice and meanness attributed to 
liim by Voltaire, had regularly advanced the money re- 
quired, as Voltaire had regularly retained it. Peterbor- 
ough's rage knew no bounds. He drew his sword and 
rushed at his treacherous guest, who happened to come up 
in the course of the interview, and it ^vas only by a precip- 
itate flight that Voltaire escaped mortal injury. That 
night he concealed himself in a neighboring village. Next 
day he returned to London, and almost immediately after- 
wards he left England for the Continent. This story no 
one would wish to believe, and there is happily strong rea- 
son for doubting its truth. In the first place, it did not 
appear till nearly seventy years after the supposed event. 
It is related by an anonymous writer, on anonymous au- 
thority, and it appears in a letter obviously animated with 
the most violent hostility to Voltaire. Nor is there, so far 
as we know, any allusion to it elsewhere. 

Before setting out he went down to Twickenham, to 
have a final interview with Pope. "I am come," he said, 
" to bid farewell to a man who never treated me seriously 
from the first hour of my acquaintance with him to the 
present moment." To this Pope — who, as soon as Vol- 
taire's back was turned, acknowledged the justice of the 
remark — probably replied with evasive politeness, or with 
an emphatic assurance to the contrary ; for it is certain 
that in none of Voltaire's subsequent writings are there 
any indications either of unfriendliness or ill-will towards 
him. And it is equally certain that, had he quitted Pope 
under the impression that he had been ill-treated by him, 
his vengeance would have been sure, prompt, and signal.'^ 

■" The authority for this is Owen Ruffliead ("Life of Pope," ji, 
1G5), who almost certainly had the anecdote, which was communicat' 
cd by Pope himself, from Warburton. ( 



VOLTAIRE IN ENGLAND. 245 

The exact date of Voltaire's departure from England we 
have not been able to discover. We may, however, con- 
jectm-e with some certainty that it took place during the 
second or third week in March, 1729 (n. s.). In a letter 
to Thieriot, dated — but without the month — 1129, he says 
that he hopes to be in Paris about the 15th of March. In 
another letter to Thieriot, dated the 10th of March, 1729, 
he writes, "In all likelihood I shall stay at Saint-Ger- 
main, and there I intend to arrive before the 15th. On 
the 25th of March he was certainly at Saint - Germain. '^* 
It is probable, then, that he left England between the 10th 
and the 20th of March, 1729 (n. s.). The time, therefore, 
spent by Voltaire in England was, deducting a month for 
his short visit to France in the summer of 1726, about two 
years and eight months, and not, as Carlyle and others er- 
roneously assert, two years. 

"''■ In his Correspondence (vol. i. of the last edition of the " ffiuvrea 
Completes") there is a letter to Thieriot, dated from Saint-Germain- 
cn-Laye, March 2, 1729, a date which, as the letter of March 10th 
proves, is certainly erroneous. 



NOTE. 

" We owe to VoUaire the famous story of the faUivg applet— 
Pngo 207. 

The history of the i)reservatiou of this anecdote is interest- 
ing, and it may be well perba^^s for me to justify what is as- 
serted in tbe text, that ^Ye owe its x^reservation to Voltaire. 
It is not, so far as I can discover, to be found in any publica- 
tion antecedent to tbe ^'Lettres sur les Anglais." It is not 
mentioned by Newton's friend Whistou in bis " Sir Isaac New- 
ton's Mathematical Philosophy More Easily Demonstrated," 
published in 1716. Nor is it mentioned by Fontenelle in his 
Elogo of Newton delivered in 1727, and inserted in the ;follow- 
ing year in the "Histoire de I'Acad^mie des Sciences," nor in 
the "Life of Sir Isaac Newton," iiublished in London in 1728. 
It is not recorded by Henry Pemberton in his "View of New- 
ton's Philosophy," 1728, though Pemberton does record that 
Newton was sitting in a garden when the first notion of his 
great theory occurred to him. Pemberton's words are, " The 
first thoughts which gave rise to his 'Principia' he had when 
he retired from Cambridge in 1C66 on account of the Plague. 
As he sat alone in a garden, he fell into a speculation on the 
power of gravity." It would seem, too, that the stor}'- Avas not 
known to Newton's intimate friend, Dr. Stukely, for Stukcly 
says nothing about it in his long letter to Dr. Mead (printed in 
Turner's Collections for the History of Grantham), written just 
after the philosopher's death, and containing many particulars 
about Newton's life and studies. But it was apparently known 
to Martin Folkes, then Fellow, and subsequently President of 
the Royal Society, and by him communicated to Robert Green, 



NOTE. 247 

who iu bis " Miscelkiuea Qucedam Pliilosophica," appended to 
Lis "Principles of tbe PhilosopLy of the Expansive and Con- 
structive Forces," published in 1727, tlius obscurely, or ratber 
enigmatically, alludes to it (p. 972) : " Qu£e sententia — i.e., tbe 
doctrine of gravitation — origiueiu duxit, uti omnis, ut fertur, 
cognitio nostra, a porno; id quod accepi ab ingeniosissimo at 
doctissimo viro . . . Martino Folkes Armigero Regiae vero Socie- 
tatis socio nieritissirno." But it was first recorded in tbe form 
in wbicb Voltaire gives it by Jobn Conduit, a very intimate 
friend of Newton, and tbe husband of his niece, who iu 1727 
drew up a number of notes containing particulars of Newton's 
life for tbe use of Fontenelle, then engaged in prex^aring bis 
Eloge. Fontenelle, however, made no use of tbe anecdote, and 
Conduit's notes remained in manuscript till 1806, when tbey 
were printed bj'^ Edmund Turner in bis Collections for the 
History' of Grantham (p. 160). Conduit's words are, "In ibo 
year 1665, when be retired to bis own estate on account of the 
Plague, be first thought of bis system of gravitation, which he 
did upon observing an apple fall from a tree." Voltaire's first 
account is in tbe fifteentb of tbe " Lettres sur les Anglais," 
published in 1733 or possibly earlier, and it runs thus : " S'etaut 
retir6 en 1666 a la canipagne pres de Cambridge, un jour qu'il 
se promeuait dans son jardin et qu'il voyait des fruits tomber 
d'un arbre, il se laissa aller a une meditation profonde sur cette 
I)esantcur, dont tons les philosophes out cbercbd si longtemps 
la cause en vain." Relating the anecdote afterwards iu bis 
"Elements de la Philosophie de Newton," part iii., cbap.iii., be 
gives his authority: "Un jour en I'annee 1665 Newton retira h 
la campagne, et voyant tomber des fruits d'un arbre, a ce que 
vi'a contesa niece Madame Conduit, se laissa aller," etc. It is sat- 
isfactory^, therefore, to know that the anecdote rests on the best 
authority, that, namely, of Newton's favorite disciple and of the 
niece who lived with him, as it is interesting to know that Vol- 
taire was tbe first to give it to the world. 



INDEX 



Abraxtes, Duke of, announces succession to Spanish monarcliy, 29. 

Addison, Joseph, Voltaire's opinion of, 239. 

Akenside, Mark, his indebtedness to Bohngbroke, 15 ; writes against 
Walpole, 137. 

Alari, correspondence with Bolingbroke, 9. 

Amhurst, Nicholas, his abilities and antecedents, 137; Editor of 
Craftsman, 138. 

Anne, Queen, her accession to the throne, 34; dislike to Godolphiii 
and to his Ministry, 40; discourtesy to Godolpliin, 45; opens Par- 
liament, 09 ; is only conditionally averse to the Pretender, 70, 71 ; 
has an apoplectic fit, 74 ; dies, 78. 

Arbuthnot, Dr., writes for peace being signed, 57. 

Arouet, Francois {vide Voltaire). 

Atterbury, Francis, writes for peace being signed, 57 ; is in favor of 
appealing to nation and declaring open war with Hanover, 81 ; 
meets Bolingbroke when going into exile, 121. 

Aubigny, designer of chateau Chantaloup, 165. 

Bacon (Lord Verulam): Voltaire's knowledge of his writings, 219. 

Bathurst, Lord : " Letter on the true use of Study and Retirement," 
by Bolingbroke, addressed to, 167. 

Beaufort, Duke of, congratulating Queen Anne, 47. 

Bengesco, George, bibliographer of Voltaire, 235. 

Berkeley, Dr. George, Voltaire's opinion of, 219. 

Berndorf, Count, favorite of King George If., 122. 

Bernieres, Madame de, Voltaire's letter to, 203. 

Berwick, Marshal : interview with Bolingbroke at Paris, 90 ; testi- 
mony in Bolingbroke's favor, 106. 

Bessieies, Mademoiselle, Voltaire's letter to, 202, 203. 

Bladen, Colonel Martin, furnishes Voltaire with information regarding 
Camoens, 222. 

Blaithwayte, Mr., resigns office as Secretary of War, 37. 

Bolingbroke, Lord Viscount, characteristics of, 6-14; as an orator, 
13-61; his influence on English literature, 14; on foreign litera- 
ture, 15; on politics of his time, ?'6. / ancestry and lineage, 16; 
birth at Battersea, 18; early education, 18, 19; honorary doctor, 
Oxford, 20 ; familiarity with classics, 20, 21 ; riotous youth, 21-23 ; 
erotic poetry, 23 ; Continental tour, 23, 24 ; stay in Paris, connec- 

11* 



250 INDEX. 

tion with English embassy, 24 ; indifferent poetry, ih. ; early prof- 
ligacy, 25 ; marries Frances Winchescombe, 26 ; enters Parlia- 
ment, 27; guiding motives 32 ; assists Hodges in bringing in bill 
for further Security of Protestant Succession, 34 ; introduces bill 
against Occasional Conformity, 37; sits on Commission against 
Halifax, ib. ; opposes Robert Walpole, ib. ; Secretary of War, 38 ; 
owing to Marlborough's influence, i6. ; is a party to Harle/s in- 
trigues while holding office under Godolphin, 40 ; resigns his seat 
in Cabinet, 41 ; devotes himself to literary pursuits, 42 ; is appoint- 
ed Secretary of State for Northern Department, 46 ; his prospects 
as such, 47; his policy and double-dealing, 48 ; publishes a pam- 
phlet inscribed "A Letter to the Examine?-,'' 49; rises into emi- 
nence and aims at Premiership, 56 ; intrigues Avitli France with a 
view of concluding peace, ib. ; virtually directs affairs and creates 
twelve new peers, 60; preliminaries of Treaty of Utrecht, 61 ; aban- 
dons Allies to vengeance of Louis XIV^., 62 ; is created Viscount of 
Bolingbroke, ib. ; his growing aversion to Oxford, 63 ; his being 
sent on a mission to France, ib. ; his triumphant reception there, 
ib. ; is betrayed by an adventuress, 64 ; by his damaged reputation, 
ib.; superseded by the Earl of Dartmouth, ib. ; resumes his duties 
as Secretary of State and signs peace of Utrecht, 65 ; keeping his 
treachery to the Allies, 66 ; public feeling growing against him, 68 ; 
determines to seize the reins of Government, 71; his prospects to 
that effect, 72 ; draws up the Schism bill, ib. ; his growing antag- 
onism to Oxford, ?■&. ,• feasts the chiefs of tiie Whig party, 73 ; gives 
friendly assurance to Gaultier, 74; difficulties of his position, ib. ; 
collapse of his schemes, 75 ; his position at death of Queen Anne, 
81 ; his policy in consequence of this event, 81, 82 ; offers his ser- 
vices to the Elector, 81-83 ; dismissed from his post as Secretary 
of State, 84; is refused admittance to the King, ib.; moves an 
amended address in defence of his late policy, 85 ; is being charged 
by Walpole, 86 ; flees the country and retires to France, 87 ; letter 
to his father and to Lord Lansdowne, 88 ; inconsistency of his ex- 
planations, 89 ; puts himself into communication with the English 
embassy at Paris, 90 ; opens secret negotiations with the Pretend- 
er, ib. ; retires to Dauphine, ?6. ; outlawed, 93; allies himself with 
the Jacobites and becomes their leader, 95 ; his interview with the 
Pretender, 96 ; proceeds to Paris, 97 ; endeavors to form a Jacobite 
ministry, ib. ; but finds his efforts unavailing, 99 ; sets about organ- 
izing Jacobite movement both in England and abroad, 100, 101; 
meets with reverses and disappointments, 103-107 ; calumniated by 
the Jacobite clique, 106 ; accused by the Earl of Mar, and by Or- 
mond, 107 ; is rudely dismissed from his post by the Chevalier, ib. ; 
is being sounded by Lord Stair, 108 ; expresses his desire to be par- 
doned and to return to England, 108 ; mingles in the social life of 
French aristocracy, 109; engages in literai'y pursuits, 110 ; writes 
the " Reflections on Exile " and the " Letter to Sir William Wynd- 
ham," ib. ; accused of crimes towards the Jacobite party in the 
"Letter from Avignon," 111 ; meets with the Marquise de Villette, 



INDEX. 251 

118; marries her at Aix-la-Chapelle, 114; speculates in the Mis- 
sissippi scheme, ib. ; removes witli his wife to La Source, ib. ; stud- 
ies at La Source, 114, 115 ; "Letters to Pouilly," a "Treatise on 
the Limits of Human Knowledge," the " Reflections on Innate Moral 
Principles," etc., 115 ; reputation of Archbishop Tillotson, ib. ; con- 
versational powers, 116; intercourse with Voltaire, ib.; influence 
on Voltaire, 117; solicits the intervention of Du Bois and of the 
Duke of Orleans, 120; interview with Lord Pohvarth, 121; return 
to England, ib. ; meets Atterbury going into exile, ib. ; arrives in 
London, ih.; endeavors to secure the reversal of his Bill of Attain- 
der, 121-125 ; starts for Aix-la-Chapelle, but meets with no success, 
123; proceeds to Paris and finds himself in dilemma, 124; offers 
his mediation at the French court to Walpole, 125 ; returns to La 
Source, 126; is restored to his civil rights, 127; his double life, 
ib. ; influence on contemporary politics, 131, 132; his exasperation 
against Walpole and causes of same, 136; is organizing the Oppo- 
sition against the Walpole Government, ib. ; starts the journal, the 
Craftsman., 138 ; publishes in same, under the title the " Occasion- 
al Writer," three papers against Walpole, t6./ at the same time is 
intriguing at the Court, 139; solicits an interview with the King, 
140; but is unsuccessful, t6.; factious opposition to the Walpole 
Government, 142-144 ; determines to appeal to the people, 144 ; in- 
flaming the populace against Walpole, 145 ; directing all the move- 
ments of the Opposition, 150; contributes the "Vision of Came- 
lick" to the Craflsman^ib. ; publishes in same "The Case of Dunkirk 
considered," 151; "Remarks on the History of England," ib. ; is 
creating a deep impression on the public mind, 152; writes on 
"The Policy of the Athenians," 153; publishes his "Dissertation 
upon Parties," ib. ; writes with a view of obliterating party preju- 
dice, 155; is engaged in beautifying his country residence at Daw- 
ley, 156; letter to Swift, ib. ; his hospitality to English friends and 
to Voltaire, 157 ; his friendship with Pope, 158 ; influence on Pope, 
162, 163; leaves England, 163; reason therefor, 164, 165; resides 
first in Paris, 165; afterwards in Touraine, ib. ; begins the "Let- 
ters on the Study of History," 166 ; writes the " Letter on the Spirit 
of Patriotism," 167; returns to England, 169; stands high in the 
favor of the Prince of Wales, ib.; assiduously courts him, 171; his 
motive for doing so, ib. ; writes the "Patriot King," and thereby 
greatly influences the younger school of politicians, 172-175 ; writes 
the " Dissertation on the State of Parties at the accession of George 
L," 175 ; also the " Reflections on the Present State of the Nation," 
ib. ; leaves England again for France, ib. ; returns to find himself 
baffled, 176 ; his treachery to Pope, 177, 178 ; his misanthropy, 180 ; 
his waning influence, ^6. ; death of his wife, 181; his isolation and 
growing illness, ib.; his death, z6. ; review of his philosophical 
works, 182-187; smnmary of his character, 187. 
Bothmar, Count, protests against the peace being signed, 57; circu- 
lates a report with a view of throwing the Tories off the track, 83 ; 
favorite of George I., 122. 



252 IXDEX. 

Bourbon, Duke of, assumes the reins of Government in France, 124. 

Boyle, Mr., resigns liis seat in the Cabinet, 46. 

Brinsden, John, BoHngbroke's Secretary', 204. 

Brooke, Henry, his literary indebtedness to Bolingbroke, 15. 

Broome, Major, his acquaintance with Voltaire, 205, foot-note. 

Burgess, Daniel, tutor of Bolingbroke, 19. 

Burke, Edmund, his literary indebtedness to Bolingbroke, 14. 

Burnet, Gilbert, his opinion of Harley, 55 ; writes against the peace 

being signed, 5*7 ; his prognostication to the Queen, ih. 
Bute, Marquis of, influenced by the "Patriot King," 173'. 
Butler, Samuel, his " Hudibras " eulogized by Voltaire, 238 ; Versions 

from, ib. 
Buys (Dutch ambassador) protests against the peace being signed, 56. 

Camoens, Luis de, Voltaire's criticism of, 222. 

Canella, Salvatore, bearing testimony to the influence of Bolingbroke's 
writings on Italian literature, 15. 

Carlyle, Thomas, his hopelessness as to gathering information about 
Voltaire's stay in England, 192 ; his errors, ih., foot-note. 

Caroline, Queen, thwarts the plans of the Opposition, 142 ; Dedication 
of "Henriade" to, 227. 

Carteret, Lord, instrumental in obtaining a pardon for Bolingbroke, 
121; his influence at Court and in Government circles, 122; his 
power declining, 123; is in coalition with Newcastle and Hard- 
wicke, 176. 

Catalans shamefully abandoned by Bolingbroke, 67. 

Charles, Archduke of Austria, eventual successor to Spanish mon- 
archy, 29. 

Chateauneuf (author of "Les Divorces Anglais"), 209. 

Chesterfield, Lord, opinion of, on Bolingbroke, 7; opinion of Boling- 
broke's elocutionary powers, 118; satrapian habits at the house of, 
not suiting Voltaire, 230. 

Chetwood, " History of Stage " quoted, 202. 

Christie, W. D., 11. 

Churchill, Charles, his literary indebtedness to Bolingbroke. 15. 

Cibber, Colley, 202. 

Clarke, Samuel, denounced by Bolingbroke, 183 ; highly appreciated 
by Voltaire, 217. 

Coderc, Piracy of the " Henriade," 228. 

Colet, " Relics of Literature " quoted, 204, 224. 

Collins, Anthony, 220. 

Collins, William, his indebtedness to Bolingbroke, 15 ; gives evidence 
as to Col. Martin Bladen, 222. 

Condorcet, his opinion on Voltaire's stay in England, 191. 

Conduit, John, 24:Q, note. 

Conduit, Mrs., 207. 

Congreve, William, his acquaintance with Voltaire, 207, 208. 

Cooke, Wingrove, author of a biography of Bolingbroke, 4 ; id.ot a 
*' History of Parties," ib. ; is not sufficiently aware of the in- 



INDEX. 253 

fluence Bolingbroke had on the intellectual activity of his age, 
79, 80. 

Cornbury, Lord : " Letters on the Study of History," addressed to, by 
Bolingbroke, 166. 

Couvreur, Adrienne de, 215. 

Cowper, Earl of, declines to enter Harley's Ministry, 46 ; reads the 
Khig's speech, 85. 

Coxe, Archdeacon, testifies to Bolingbroke's skill in plodding, 125 ; 
author of " Memoirs of Horatio Lord Walpole," 126 ; reason he 
assigns for the sudden departure of Bolingbroke from England, 163. 

Cudworth, Ralph, denounced by Bolingbroke, 183; studied by Vol- 
taire, 219. 

Cyprian, Saint, denounced by Bolingbroke, 183. 

Dadichy suggests an alteration of the opening lines of the " Henri- 
ade " to Voltaire, 231. 

Darlington, Countess of, 122. 

Dartmouth, Earl of, supersedes Bolingbroke, 64. 

Davenaut, Charles, solicited by Harley, 49. 

De Foe, Daniel, 14 ; supports Harley, 49. 

Denham, Sir John, 238. 

Desfontaines, Abbe, libels on Voltaire, 223. 

Desnoiresterres, his diligent inquiries respecting Voltaire's stay in 
England, 192, 193. 

Dodington, Bubb, Secretary of Frederick Lewis, Prince of Wales, 1*70 ; 
is a Maecenas of men of letters and friend of Voltaire, 197. 

Dryden, John, his influence on English literature, 14 ; first acquaint- 
ance with Bolingbroke, 23 ; opinion passed on, by Voltaire, 237. 

Du Bois solicited by Bolingbroke to secure him a pardon, 120. 

Dunoquet, host of Voltaire at Calais, 193, 

Dunton, John, writes against the Peace of Utrecht, 57. 

Duvernet, biographer of Voltaire, 236. 

EcsEGius denounced by Bolingbroke, 183. 

Falkener, Sir Everard, intercourse with Voltaire, 197 ; his career, 
character, and death, 198. 

Fenton, Elijah, patronized by Bolingbroke, 7. 

FerrLole, Madame de, correspondence with Voltaire, 193, 211. 

Fielding, Henry, prepares to refute Bolingbroke's philosophical writ- 
ings, 182. 

GalI/AS, De, is being forbidden the Court, 57. 

Galway, Earl of, supported by the Whigs, 52. 

Gaultier, Abbe, his interview with Bolingbroke, 74. 

Gay, John, his acquaintance ^vith Voltaire, 207. 

George I, landing at Greenwich, 84 ; espouses the cause of the Whigs, 

85 ; grants an interview to Bolingbroke, 140; departs for Hanover, 

and dies there, 141. , 



254 INDEX. 

Gibbon, Edward, liis literary indebtedness to Bolingbroke, 14. 

Gloucester, Duke of, death of, 29. 

Glover, Richard, his literary indebtedness to Bolingbroke, 15. 

Godolphin, Earl of, first Lord of the Treasury, 30 ; character and ante- 
cedents of, 35; policy of, 36; his downfall, 42 ; review of his ad- 
ministration, and deserving traits of same, 42, 43 ; reasons of its 
collapse, 44. 

Goldsmith, Oliver, biography of Bolingbroke, 4; his literary indebted- 
ness to Bolingbroke, 14 ; his statement about the publication of 
the "Henriade,"227. 

Green, Robert, quoted, 246, note. 

Greg, scandal of, 41. 

Grimoard, General, author of "Essai Historique," 4 ; reasons which 
he assigns for sudden departure of Bolingbroke from England, 163. 

Guiscard, Antoine de, character and antecedents of, 53 ; acquaintance 
with St. John, 54 ; stabs Harley in a surreptitious assault, ib.; mo- 
tives therefor, 55. 

Halifax, Earl of, declines to enter Harley's ministry, 46. 

Hanmer, Sir T., author of the Representation, 61 ; moves an adjourn- 
ment of the consideration of Walpole's report, 93. 

Harcourt, Sir Simon, is ignored by the King, 84. 

Hardwicke, Earl of, his correspondence with Bolingbroke, 9. 

Harley, Robert (vide Oxford, Earl of). 

Harley, Thomas, his arrest, 91. 

Harlington, Lady, promise given by Bolingbroke to, 119, foot-note. 

Hedges, Sir Thomas, appointed Secretary of State, 30; removed from 
Ministry, 39. 

Hervey, Lady, poetry dedicated to, by Voltaire, 209. 

Hei'vey, Lord, his Memoirs, 14:9, foot-note; friendship with Voltaire, 209. 

Hill, Aaron, opinion passed on by Bolingbroke, 7. 

Hobbcs, Thomas, studied by Voltaire, 219. 

Hooker, Richard, his influence on English literature, 14. 

Howard, Leonard, 219. 

Howard, Mrs., favorite of the Prince of Wales, 139 ; powerless to as- 
sist Bolingbroke after the death of the King, 142. 

Hume, David, his indebtedness to Bolingbroke, 14. 

ISOCRATES, 11. 

Jamks n., death at Saint Germain, 33. 

James the Pretender, character of, 94 ; his interview with Boling- 
broke, 95; dallies at St. Malo, 105; hurries off to Scotland, ^■6.; 
dismisses Bolingbroke, 107. 

Jersey, Earl of, retirement from Secretaryship of State (1700), 30; 
resigns his seat in the Ministry (anno 1702), 37. 

Johnson, Dr. Samuel, conformity of his political opinions with those 
of Bolingbroke, 173, 

Junius, his literary indebtedness to Bolingbroke, 14. 



INDEX. 255 

Keate, George, 242. 

Kendal, Duchess of, her animosity against Walpole, 139 ; is patron- 
izing Bolingbrolce, ib. 

Lansdowne, Lord, written to by Bolingbroke, 88. 

Leibnitz, G. W. de, denounced by Bolingbroke, 183. 

Lepel, Molly, vide Hervey, Lady. 

Lewis, Erasmus, letter to Swift, anent Bolingbroke's fitness for the 

post of Prime-minister, 74. 
Lewis, Frederick (Prince of Wales), at open war with his father, 169 ; 

his character and temper, 169, 170; half- reconciled with the 

King, 176. 
Locke, John, Voltaire's admiration for, 218, 219. 
Louis XIV. (King of France), sympathy wdth the Jacobite cause, 99 ; 

his death, 102. 
Lovat, Simon Lord, 198. 

Lvttelton, Lord, "Letter on the Spirit of Patriotism" inscribed to, by 
_^«li„5broke, 168. ^^__ ^^^ 

Macaulay, Lord, his literary indebtedness to Bolingbroke, 14. 

Macknight, Thomas, author of Life of Bolingbroke, 4, 5; not suffi- 
ciently aware of the influence Bolingbroke had on the intellectual 
activity of his age, 79, 80. 

Mallet, David, biographer of Bolingbroke, 3 ; under-secretary of Fred- 
erick Lewis (Prince of Wales), 170 ; his mercenary and unscrupu- 
lous conduct towards him, 179. 

Manton, Dr., author of a hundred and ninety sermons on the 119th 
psalm, 19. 

Mar, Earl of, receives instructions from Bolingbroke, 104; but has 
already anticipated them, ib.; accuses Bolingbroke of incapacity 
and negligence, 107. 

Marlborough, Duchess of, opinion held by, of Robert Harley, 31 ; is 
forbidden the Court, 52; is sought after by Voltaire, 208 ; who is 
invited to draw up her Memoirs, ib. 

Marlborough, Duke of, 8 ; military operations on the Meuse, 35 ; as- 
sists Bolingbroke, 38 ; opposed to Sacheverel's impeachment, 43 ; 
his inordinate ambition, 45 ; arrives in England, 52 ; interviews 
Avith Bolingbroke, ^6.; arrives from the Hague and takes counsel 
with the Chiefs of the Opposition, 57; delivers impressive speech 
in Parliament, 58,59; is removed from command, 60 ; joins the 
Jacobite movement, 101. 

Masham, Mrs., her influence on Queen Anne, 44 ; becomes a favorite 
at Court, 52. 

Matignon, Marquis de, advances money to Bolingbroke, 164. 

Mesnager, arranges preliminaries of peace, 58 : his suite engages in 
a contest with the suite of Van Rechtheren, Holland, 64. 

Milton, John, not sufficiently appreciated by Voltaire, 205, 206 ; dili- 
gently perused by Voltaire, 237. 

Montague, Earl of, attack on, 28. 



256 INDEX. 

Montesquieu, De, his literary indebtedness to Bolingbroke, 15 ; gives 
account of debate in Parliament, ^.e., Dunkerque fortifications, 146. 

Morgan, accessary to Bolingbroke's escape from England, 87. 

Morville, Count de, recommends Voltaire to Horace Walpole the 
elder, 197. 

Xewton, Sir Isaac, his death commented on by Voltaire, 207 ; Vol- 
taire's anecdotes of, ib. ; the falling apple, 246, note. 

Nicolerdot, Estimate of Voltaire's gain by the " Ilenriade," 228. 

Nottingham, Earl of, disagrees with his Ministerial colleagues, 37 ; 
hands in his resignation, ^/^,; consents to move resolution against 
peace, 57 ; does so in Parliament, 58. 

Oldfield, Anne, 215. 

Oldmixon, John, writes against peace being signed, 57. 

Orford, Earl of, inquiry into the administration of, 28. 

Orleans, Duke of. Regent of France, undecided attitude in Jacobite 
movement, 103 ; is solicited by Bolingbroke for pardon by English 
Government, 120; death, 124, 

Ormond, Duke of, ignored by King, 84 ; deserts his post as lieutenant 
Jacobite movement, 102 ; sails for Devonshire, 104. 

Orsini, Princess, supervising construction chateau Chantaloup, 165. 

Otway, Thomas, 238. 

Oxford, Earl of, antecedents, physique, characteristics, 30, 31 ; is ap- 
pointed Lord Treasurer (?) in Godolphin's Ministry, 37 ; his intrigues 
while holding office, 40; is removed from office, 41 ; influences 
Queen Anne against the Whigs, 44 ; is appointed Chancellor of the 
Exchequer, 45 ; hires the Press, 49 ; is confronted by the feeling of 
the extreme Tories, 53 ; falls ill, ?'6.; is wounded by Antoine de 
Guiscard's dastardly assault, 54 ; reaps the benefit of it through 
enhanced popularity and royal favor, 55 ; organizes a committee to 
inquire into expenditure of Godolphin Ministry, ih.; withdraws seals 
of State from Bolingbroke and confers them on Earl of Dartmouth, 
64; becomes more and more irresolute, 69 ; is removed from of- 
fice, 73 ; is openly insulted by King, 84. 

Parton, biographer of Voltaire, 193; erroneously attributes to Vol- 
taire an English edition of Brutus, 235. 

Patrick, Dr., author of "Mensa Mystica," 18. 

Pelliam, Henry, quoted, 141. 

Pemberton, Dr. Henry, Voltaire's acquaintance with, 218 ; assists Vol- 
taire in studying Newton, ih. 

Peterborough, Earl, supported by Tories, 52 ; host of Voltaire, 205 ; 
Voltaire's treachery to, 243, 244. 

Philip, King of Spain, claims right of succession to the throne of 
France, 102. 

Philips, John, poet and student of Christ Church, 20. 

Pitt, William, opinion of, on Bolingbroke's eloquence, 8 ; literary in- 
debtedness to Bolingbroke, 14. 



INDEX. 25V 

Pitt, Andrew, the Quaker, Voltaire's acquaintance with, 213. 

Platen, Countess of, faTorite at Court, 122. 

Pohvarth, Lord, solicited by Bolingbroke with view of obtaining par- 
don, 121. 

Pope, Alexander, correspondence with Bolingbi-oke, 9 ; perfidious 
treatment at the hand of Bolingbroke, ib. ; his literary indebtedness 
to Bolingbroke, 15 ; his attachment to Bolingbroke, 158, and stim- 
ulus he received from him, 159; difficulty to fix the amount of 
indebtedness he owed to Bolingbroke, 160-1G2; his unbounded 
admiration of Bolingbroke, 162, 163; ungratefully dealt with by 
Bolingbroke, 177; reasons therefor, 178, 179; his acquaintance 
sought after by Voltaire, 200, 201 ; decoys and exposes him, 210; 
Voltaire's opinion of, 241 ; last interview with Voltaire, 244. 

Poree, Pere, Voltaire's letter to, 232. 

Port, Adam de, ancestor of Bolingbroke, 16. 

Prior, Matthew, correspondence with Bolingbroke, 9 ; writes from 
Paris complaining, 65 ; believed by Bolingbroke to havo turned 
State's evidence against him, 86 ; is arrested, 90 ; Voltaire's opin- 
ion of, 238. 

Pulteney, Daniel, his antecedents and character, 133. 

Pulteney, William, his antecedents, character, and talents, 134, 135; 
his hostility to Walpole, how caused, 135; bluntly deprecates fur- 
ther co-operation of Bolingbroke, 164; writes to Swift anent Bol- 
ingbroke's sudden departure from England, 165 ; is in coalition 
with Newcastle and Ilardwicke, 176. 

Raby, Lord, letter from Bolingbroke to, ^o^ foot-note. 

" echtheren, his si 
ger, France, 64. 

Remusat, De, author of a study on Bolingbroke, 5 ; confounds the 
"Letter to Sir William Wyndham " with the "Letter to Wynd- 
liam," 111 ; reason he assigns for Bolingbroke's sudden departure 
from England, 164; uncertainty concerning Voltaire's stay in Eng- 
land, 192. 

Ridpath, George, writes against the peace being signed, 57. 

Rochester, Earl of, resigns his seat in the Ministry, 37; succeeds 
Somers as President of the Council, 46 ; heads the Opposition to 
Harley, 53 ; his death, 55. 

Roscommon, Earl of, Voltaire reads his poems, 237. 

Ruffhead, Owen, relates incident relative to Pope, 200 ; also 244,/oo/- 
note. 

Saciieverel, Dr., impeachment of, by Godolphin, 43 ; reasons of 
same, ib. 

Schaub, Sir Luke, English Ambassador at Paris, creature of Boling- 
broke, 122; is at loggerheads with the partisans of Walpole, 124. 

Seymour, Earl of, resigns his seat in Ministry, 37. 

Shakespeare, William, Voltaire's indebtedness to, 235, 236 ; his real 
opinion of, 236, 237. 



258 INDEX. 

Sherlock, Rev. Martin, quoted, 221, 242. 

Slirewsbury, Duke of, secedes from the Tory party, 75 ; supports the 
motion in defence of the Bolingbroke Ministry, 86 ; joins the 
Jacobite movement, 101. 

Somers, Earl of, disapproves of Sacheverel's impcu-hment, 43 ; dis- 
approves of Bolingbroke's being declared an outlaw, 93. 

Somerset, Duchess of, becomes a favorite at Court, 52. 

Somerset, Duke of, is dismissed from office, CO. 

Spence, Rev. Joseph, quoted, 200; foot-note, 211, 223. 

St. John, Henry, vide Bolingbroke. 

St. John, Henry, the elder, marries Mary, second daughter Earl of 
Warwick, 1*7 ; commits murder and seriously jeopardizes his life, 
ih.; dies at Battersea, 176. 

St. John, John, member of the Council of Nine, 16. 

St. John, Oliver, is appointed Lord Deputy of Ireland and created a 
baronet of Tregoze, 16. 

St. Jolm, Walter, marries Joanna, daughter of the Chief-justice, 16 ; 
founds the school at Battersea, 17. 

Stair, Lord, interview with Bolingbroke, 90 ; demands surrender of 
Jacobite flotilla, 104 ; receives instructions to sound Bolingbroke, 
108 ; does not commit himself to any pledge about Bolingbroke's 
pardon, 109. 

Stanhope, Earl of, accuses Bolingbroke of having distrained State 
papers, 86 ; decHncs to accede to Hanmer's motion, 93 ; keeps 
Bolingbroke in expectancy re his pardon, 109. 

Steele, Richard, attempts made by Harley to subvert him prove un- 
successful, 50; writes against the peace being signed, 57. 

SulTolk, Lady, retires from Court, 164. 

Sunderland, Earl of, is appointed Lord Treasurer by Godolphin, 39; 
disliked by Queen Ainie, 40; keeps Bolingbroke in expectancy re 
his pardon, 109. 

Sundon, Lady, 210. 

Swift, Jonathan, his description of Bolingbroke's character, 6 ; cor- 
respondence with Bolingbroke, 9 ; and causes of rupture, ih. ; his 
influence on English literature, 14 ; impression on, created by Lady 
Bolingbroke, 26 ; puts his pen at tlie service of the Harley Ministry 
and edits the Examiner, 50 ; his eminent fitness for the post, 50, 
51 ; writes for the peace being signed, 57 ; prognosticates a felon's 
fate to the Earl of Oxford and to himself, 59 ; endeavors to inter- 
pose between Bolingbroke and Oxford, 72 ; writes to Peterborough 
about state of public affairs, 73 ; is fast sinking into imbecility, 
176; his previous acquaintance with Voltaire, 205; his being 
written to by Voltaire, 225 ; and is much admired by him, 
239. 

Tankerville, Lord, is appointed Lord Privy Seal, 30. 

Taylor, Jeremy, 14. 

Taylor, John, 230. 

Thieriot, correspondence with Voltaire, 203, 211, 218, 225, 230, 23G; 



INDEX. 259 

is encouraged by Voltaire to undertake the translation of Swift's 
" Gulliver's Travels," 239 ; correspondence with Voltaire, 245. 

Thomson, James, his literary indebtedness to BolingbroUe, 15; is 
highly thought of by Voltaire, 239. 

Tillotson, Archbishop, written against by Bolingbrbke, 115; de- 
nounced by Bolingbroke, 183. 

Torcy, De, not the superior of Bolingbroke, 8. 

Townshend, Lord, is voted enemy to his country, 60 ; is instrumental 
in obtaining a pardon for Bolingbroke, 120; retires from the Cab- 
inet, 145. 

Valliere and Bara, affair of, 41. 

Vanbrugh, Sir John, Voltaire's plagiarism from, 238. 

Villiere, Marquis de, iritrigues for a dukedom, l2<o, foot-note. 

Villiers, Second Duke of Buckingham, points of resemblance with 
Bolingbroke, 12. 

Villette, Marquise de, her antecedents, attractions, acquaintance with 
Bolingbroke, 113; marriage at Aix-la-Chapelle, 114; goes to Lon- 
don to plead her case in a lawsuit, and is successful, 126, 127 ; her 
death, 181. 

Voltaire, Fran9ois Arouet de, his indebtedness to Bolingbroke attest- 
ed by Condorcet, 15 ; first acquaintance with Bolingbroke at La 
Source, 116; feelings of respect and veneration entertained by, 
towards Bolingbroke, 118 ; peculiarity of influence of Bolingbroke 
on Voltaire, 119-121; his release from the Bastile, 193; stay at 
Calais, ib. ; disembarks at Greenwich, ?6. / impressions during his 
voyage, 194 ; first impressions on setting foot on English soil, 194- 
196 ; arrival in London, 196 ; and is a guest at Bolingbroke's house, 
ib. ; is recommended to Buljb Dodington, 197 ; previously was caned 
by the Chevalier de Rohan, 199; devotes himself to learning the 
English language, ib. ; makes the acquaintance of Pope, 200; awk- 
ward incident happening at this interview, 201 ; le.a'cs England 
for France and returns again, 202 ; his disappointment in money 
affairs and family afflictions, 202, 203 ; his correspondence with 
French friends, 2(53, 204; his opinion of Pope, 204; his opinion of 
Milton, 205 ; his views on English habits and customs, 206 ; is 
present at the funeral of Sir Isaac Newton, and comments thereon, 
207 ; is invited to draw up the Memoirs of the Duchess of Marl- 
borough, 208 ; his opinion of the beauty of English women, 209 ; 
dedicates a poem to Lady Hervev, 26.; acts as a political emissary 
to the Court of St. James, 210; is decoyed and exposed by Pope, 
lb. ; endeavors to ingratiate himself with the Court and with Wal- 
pole, 211 ; and is looked down upon by Bolingbroke and friends, 
ih.; his fulsome flattery and indecent conversation, 212; is collect- 
ing materials for his new works, 213; comments on the religious 
life of England, ib. ; notes the differences between English and 
French social life and the advantages of the former, 214-216 ; his 
scrap-book, 217; has the works of Sir Isaac Newton explained to 
him by Dr. Clarke, 217; makes the acquaintance of Dr. Perabcr- 



260 INDEX. 

ton, 218; becomes familiar with the works of Locke, of Cacon, of 
Ilobbes, and of Cudworth, 218, 219; studies Berkeley, 219; iden- 
tifies liimself with the movement originated by Collins and Wool- 
ston, 220 ; and assists Woolston financially, ib. ; publishes two es- 
says in the English language, 220-222 ; goes to. reside in Maiden 
Lane and in Billiter Square, 224; solicits the patronage of the 
Earl of Oxford, 225 ; is being highly spoken of by English press, 
225, 226 ; publishes " Henriade," 226 ; dedicates it to Queen Caro- 
line, 227 ; and is highly successful with sale, 227, 228 ; is robbed 
by piratical booksellers, 228, 229 ; but realizes, nevertheless, a hand- 
some reward, 228 ; domestic trouble and indifferent health, 230 ; 
alters opening lines of "Henriade," 231; sharply criticised in a 
French pamphlet, ib. ; meets with a mishap, but cleverly extricates 
liimself, 232, 233 ; undertakes his " History of Charles 'XH.," also 
"Brutus," 234, 235; prepares a tragedy, "La Mort de Cesar" 
and the " Lettres Philosophiques," 235, 236 ; proposes to open a 
French theatre in London, 236 ; studies the works of Shakespeare, 
and is inspired by them, ib. ; peruses the works of all the classical, 
and a great many of the minor, poets and prose Avriters of Eng- 
land, 236-240 ; prepares for return to France, 241 ; grateful re- 
membrance borne by him to England, 242 ; disparaging stories 
circulated about the causes of his departure, 243, 244 ; leaves Eng- 
land, 245 ; anecdote of Newton's apple, 246, note. 

Waller, Edmund, opinion passed on by Voltaire, 238. 

Walpole (Horace the elder) gives a letter of introduction to Voltaire 
for Bubb Dodington, 197. 

Walpole, Sir Robert, his college studies at Eton, 19; opposed to 
SachevereFs impeachment, 43 ; is imprisoned in the Tower, 60 ; 
speaks in opposition to, and charges Bolingbroke with faithless- 
ness to his King, 86; directs a Commission of Inquiry, 90; and 
brings in a Bill of Attainder against Bolingbroke, 93 ; declines to 
accede to Hanmer's motion, ib. ; meets Bolingbroke's overtures 
with a blinit rebuff and with a warning, 123 ; paralyzes Boling- 
broke's offer of mediatorship at the French Court, 125 ; is strenu- 
ously opposed to restore Bolingbroke to his civil rights, 126 ; at 
last forced to do so by the King, 127 ; replies to the "Occasional 
AVriter" of the journal, the Craftsman^ 138; advises the King to 
grant Bolingbroke an interview, 139; is becoming alarmed, ?'6. / 
passes through a critical period after the death of the King, 141 ; 
maliciously attacked by the Opposition, 145-150; is attacked by 
Sir William Wyndham, 150; resumes office for another seven 
years, i6.y is becoming unpopular, 153; alliance with Cardinal 
Fleury, 165 ; resigns his Ministry, 176. 

Walsingham, Lady, her animosity against Walpole, 140. 

Whitelield, George, 7. 

William, Prmce of Orange, difficult position of, 27 ; proroguing 
Parliament, 33 ; arrived in London and remodels the Ministry, 34 ; 
his death, ib. 



INDEX. 



2G1 



Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, the prototj-pe of youthful Uberthies, 22, 

Wiuehescombe, Frances, daughter of Sir Henry W., marriage of, with 
Henry St. John, 26 ; her affection towards him and subsequent 
estrangement, ib.; her death, 113. 

Wright, Sir Natlian, resigns his seat in Ministry, 37. 

Wyndham, Sir William, his correspondence with Bolingbrokc, 60; 
warrant made out for his arrest, 105; letters to, from Bolingbroke, 
110, 111; his position as leader of the Hanoverian Tories, 136; 
attacks Walpole in Parliament, 150; receives letter from Boling- 
broke explaining his sudden departure from England, 164. 

Young, Edward, the poet, his acquaintance with Voltaire, 205 ; dedi- 
cated one of his poems to him, ib. ; author of an epigram on Vol- 
taire, 206 ; assists him in revising manuscript of his English essavs, 
223. 




the Jacobites thickened, and some of the clev- 
erest men in the kingdom were in leagne with 
them. While Haiiey, the minister, intrigued, 
lioliughroke — then St. John — proceeded to 
])repare himself to become his rival. St. John 
was a remarkably good French scholar. No 
one else in the cabinet was; and yet in the 
important negotiations then going on with 
France a perfect knowledge of the French 
language was necessary; consequently he re- 
ceived the seals as Secretary of State for the 
Northern Department. The court was now in 
the hands of the Jacobites, and Queen Anne 
reigned in a Stuart atmosphere. While Har- 
ley coquetted with the Pretender — for the 
Queen's health was failing — St. John induced 
the Tories to start the Examiner. De Foe 
worked for the Tories in his Beview, and Swift 
killed all he touched with his acrid satire in the 
Examiner. St. John had invoked a new and 
crushing power in politics — that of the press. 
He worked with energy, and very nearly con- 
cluded a successful treaty with France. He 
was rewarded, not by an earldom, as he had 
expected, but by the title of Viscount Boling- 
broke and Baron St. John of Ledyard Tregoze. 
Queen Anne had disappointed him, Mr. Collins 
says, because of his notorious and shameless 
l)rofligacy. After this came his journey to 
France, where he was received with the honors 
of a messenger of peace; then his accession 
to the control of English affairs and his plan 
to restore the Pretender, which was fully ma- 
tured, when Queen Anne died soon after he had 
received the white staff from her. But on the 
accession of the Elector of Hanover he became 
a loyal Hanoverian, for he had sworn allcj^if. 
giance to both the Stuarts and the Hanove- 



^ly founded on Seneca and Zeno wliich were 
absurd and affected in a man notorious for prof- 
ligacy and ambition. In 1717 be " reformed" so 
mucb as to attacli bimself to only one woman, 
tbe Marquise de Villette, niece of Madame De 
Maiutenon ; he married ber on tbe deatb of bis 
wife. He formulated a pbilosopby, of wbicb, 
writes Mr. Collins, ''bis first disciple was Vol- 
taire, and bis second disciple was Pope." Vol- 
taire met bim in 1721, and from tbat date until 
tbe end of bis life Voltaire entbusiastically 
acknowledged Bolingbroke as bis master in 
tbe scbool of skepticism. " It was Bolingbroke 
wbo taugbt bim to pervert tbe Essai/ on the 
Human Understandiny into a vindication of 
materialism, and tbe Novum Organon into a 
satire on metapbysics." Back in England 
again, restored to bis rigbts as a private citi- 
zen, be again assumed tbe role of a pbilosopber, 
serenely despising tbe world, tbougb "ready 
to sell bis very soul for a place." In tbe essay 
on tbe Literary Life of Lord Bolingbroke, Mr. 
Collins gives a sketcb of bis relations with 
Pope, and sbows tbat tbe cause of tbe quarrel 
of tbese two men of genius was not due to tbo 
malice of Pope, but to tbe poet's over-consid- 
eration for bis friend's literary reputation. 
Bolingbroke's pbilosopby bas been more talked 
of tban understood in late years, and tbe read- 
er wbo owes it to bimself to become more fa- 
miliar witb tbe bistor}^ of a wonderful man 
wbo readied tbe verge of tbe possession of all 
tbat be desired, but failed on tbe very verge, 
Avill find in Mr. John Cburton Collius's work 
an exbaustive analysis of a system ofsopbistry 
to wbicb tbe world owes Voltaire, and tbe per- 
versions tbat Voltaire set free, like tbe terrors 
of Pandora's box. A statesman, a pbilosopber, 
a man of letters, and a social luminary, Boling- 
broke, described as Mr. Collins describes bim, 
'^is cue of tbe most glorious and infamous crea- 
ires of tbe century of wonderful creatures in 
licb be lived. 



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